


Transformers: Ascension

by CatMeisterCoal



Series: The Destiny of Cybertron [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Brainwashing, Child Abuse, Child Corpses, Child Death, Electrocution, F/F, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Mechpreg, Parent planning, Reverse Eugenesis, Weapons of Mass Destruction, major disconnection with reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatMeisterCoal/pseuds/CatMeisterCoal
Summary: The sequel to Transformers: A New DawnRodimus has been contacted by the mythical and terrible Unicron and now stands alone to face against this terrible foe while Cybertron collapses around him. The paradise that they are so close to achieving is pushed out of reach by an unseen force. He will have to struggle and fight like he never has before against the odds, his family, himself, and destiny.
Relationships: Aileron/Arcee (Transformers), Cosmos/Soundwave, Drift | Deadlock & Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Megatron/Optimus Prime, Prowl/Shockwave, Rodimus/Thunderclash, Starscream/Wheeljack, Windblade/Chromia
Series: The Destiny of Cybertron [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601992
Comments: 38
Kudos: 43





	1. So It Begins

->_167P-LM: I am Unicron.

Rodimus feels a chill run down his spinal strut, reading, and rereading those words again with half of him hoping it’s a joke but he has a sinking feeling that it is far more than that, far more than anything he could ever imagine or fear. A breeze rolls over the land, quickly draining the remaining heat from his plating as he hardly even vents. The red light at the base of the tower languidly flashes on and off to the rhythm of his shallow vents as a prickling sensation overcomes his form, the blue screen of the display glowing harshly in his face. He slams the controls to turn off the tower that shuts down with a faint buzz, hiss, and pop, leaving him without any light but the moon above that taunts him so. Energon rushes through his fuel lines and he begins to feel dizzy, off-balance so he has to lean on the control module for support, his head hanging low. He takes in a deep vent to restabilize his internals and lets it out and lifts his head back up, determination burning in his optics.

->NyonRP17: What do you want?

* * *

Rodimus wakes up in his berth with a weight over him making him sigh fondly as he looks up to see Thunderclash’s face, calm in his recharge. Snuggling into Thunderclash’s large and warm frame, he stretches up just enough to place a kiss on his nose and red optics blink slowly awake to look at Rodimus with a gentle glow. Thunderclash pulls Rodimus close and kisses him, the motion is slow and sweet as his lips linger on Rodimus’. Rodimus’ optics trace Thunderclash’s face as he brings up a hand and runs it over Thunderclash’s helm, optics dimming from the joy at seeing his conjunx to troubled and thoughtful. Thunderclash moves so he’s slightly looming over Rodimus, studying his face with concern and kisses Rodimus’ temple, his brow tightening with worry.

“What’s on your mind?” Thunderclash’s deep voice shakes the air between them, heavy from recharge.

Rodimus shakes his head, “Just stressed, a lot to do today.”

Thunderclash huffs a laugh of disbelief, “There’s a lot to do every day, Rodimus.”

Rodimus stares at him for a moment before shifting his optics away to the side, mouth taught with consternation.

Thunderclash sighs and hangs his head in frustration then moves just his optics to look at Rodimus before nodding and sitting up, dragging Rodimus along with him.

“Come on,” Thunderclash insists albeit gently, his hand a warm and solid comfort against Rodimus’ faceplate, “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s troubling you.”

Rodimus works his mouth for a moment as he thinks of what to say and even looks up as though the ceiling would have the answer while scrunching up his optics in thought. He looks back at Thunderclash, patient, thoughtful Thunderclash, and sighs.

“Do you think Drift and Ratchet will put their names in at The Wells now?” Rodimus sits up, intent on Thunderclash’s answers.

Thunderclash blows out a surprised vent and chuckles nervously, “You’re worried if Drift and Ratchet are going to get a sparkling? Why?”

Rodimus shrugs and rolls his helm lazily to the side, “I don’t know. The thought suddenly… appeared. I’m worried. That’s all.”

Thunderclash cups Rodimus’ face to get him to look at him, “Are you saying you don’t want them to get a sparkling before we do?”

Rodimus chokes on nothing but air and quickly gets out of berth and heads to the washracks to begin getting ready for the day. Thunderclash drags himself from the berth and walks to the washracks that are now filled with billowing steam, clouding the pristine white room. He leans against the doorframe as he watches Rodimus stand under the stream of water, just letting the water pour over him in rivulets that make his already glossy frame look absolutely sparkling. Picking up a bottle of soap as he walks to the showerhead, Thunderclash begins washing Rodimus, gently pressing into seams to ease his plating and soothe twisted cables. Rodimus leans into the doting touch and shivers as Thunderclash passes over his spoiler, slowly relaxing and letting his worry drip away as best as he can. They remain like that, silently washing each other and soothing aches from the heavy workday they had yesterday in preparation for another one today. Rodimus swipes away a patch of bubbles off Thunderclash’s nose, making him smile and kisses him as the warm water continues to envelop them, the heat and soft glide of the water creating hazy clouds form in his processor and all there is for that sweet moment is Thunderclash’s plating under his hands, his engine rumbling a steady rhythm through him, and his glossa tasting every corner of Thunderclash’s mouth.  
They break apart and Thunderclash turns off the water and turns on the air dryer, the sound of the fans roaring in their audials. After they’re dry as can be, Rodimus begins to leave but is stopped by an arm around his waist and he lets himself be pulled into a bear hug with Thunderclash’s face pressed into his pauldron.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Thunderclash murmurs into his plating, soaking in the feeling of his conjunx’s frame, “but I do think we should talk about this.”

Thunderclash falls silent, his engines turning anxiously and Rodimus can imagine the tense look on his face.

“I…” Thunderclash swallows thickly and almost too softly to hear, says, “I like that idea. I like the idea of us… I like the idea of us raising a sparkling together.”

Rodimus’ spark flutters as his anxiety bubbles anew and he turns around in Thunderclash’s grip to look at him with wide optics and nods stiffly. Thunderclash smiles and gives Rodimus a parting kiss before releasing him and heading out to face the day leaving Rodimus alone in their habsuite.

At first, he doesn’t move at all, his chest feels hollow as just stands in the room that’s so quiet now with an earth-shattering silence. Then he slumps against the smooth, white wall that’s so cold to the touch it seeps through the thin plating of his hand. He looks at himself in the mirror, optics dim and heavy as a weight settles over his frame. His mouth curls into a snarl as he hits the other side of the mirror with the flat of his hand, the dull thud echoing through his frame.

“You coward,” he hisses, optics locked on his reflection.

* * *

There’s a slight delay that draws on long enough that Rodimus startles when a new message pings in.

->_167P-LM: I want you to play a game with me.

Rodimus grits his denta and scowls at the blank screen in front of him as he curls his hands into fists.

* * *

Rodimus taps the datapad in front of him idly, not really looking at it, his optics unfocused so all the glyphs bleed together. Stacks of datapads surround him on the desk he sits at, in his office that’s more like a throne room with its spiraling ceiling and sheer length with a carpeted path that leads to an elevated desk. The walls a gentle gold with soft blue highlights, the same blue as the carpet. A line of chairs stands in a file in front of his desk that is sometimes filled with delegates, assistants, or a loved one that’s come to visit him. A window of the strongest bulletproof glass the Minimus could find stretches from floor to ceiling behind his desk to let in the light of Alpha Centauri and overlook the glittering city of New Nyon. He’s memorized every inch of this office, his personal central command that he’s worked in since the restoration of Cybertron that he knew was absolutely a throne room. It didn’t matter how many times he insisted on being considered a normal part of the new governing force of Cybertron, no one could let go of their hopes, religious or otherwise. He tosses down the datapad, giving up on reading over the latest reports of energon production in favor of his wallowing and notices Windblade treading up to him.

She stops just in front of his desk, face unreadable as she tracks her optics from his slouched form to the datapads covering his desk then back to him.

“I’ve come for the forms permitting the construction of the new veteran care centers,” her posture is casual but her gaze is piercing, calculating.

Rodimus nods and gestures to one of the neater stacks on his desk and rests his head in his hand. Windblade settles the datapads in her arms easily but doesn’t leave immediately, her wings taught with unease, her only tell.

“You’re distressed,” she sets her helm in a domineering tilt, an unconscious gesture, “What’s wrong?”

“Heh,” Rodimus’ grin comes off far more bitter than he intends so he quickly retracts it, “You’re spending too much time with Starscream.”

Windblade’s wings give an indignant flutter and Rodimus hides his smirk.

“Don’t change the subject,” Windblade’s wings lower as her expression becomes earnest, “Please, Rodimus. This job is already so stressful for you as it would be for any mech so if there’s something on top of all of that… You don’t have to bear anything alone.”

Rodimus looks away and static builds in intake as he tries to come up with something to say only to firmly clear his intake of it all.

“I’m just having a bad day,” Rodimus mutters, optics shuttered as his shoulders sag with the sudden wave of exhaustion that rolls over his frame.

Windblade looks down, her uncertainty coming off her in waves and bleeding into the air as she remains in front of him.

“If you say so,” she whispers then straightens up and lands a look on him that leaves no room for argument and says, “but if anything comes up, anything at all, you know I’m here, right?”

Rodimus gives her a soft smile, this one far more genuine than his last, “I know. Thank you, Windblade.”

She nods once and lets him get back to work, the door sliding resolutely behind her with a click. Rodimus stands up and stretches his spinal strut and cables before going to the window to look out over his fair city, leaning heavily against the glass to press his forehelm against the cool surface. His thoughts smudge and blur like spilled ink over a page, the shining world outside seems so far away now. He sighs and pushes away from the window to turn back to his desk littered with the deeds of the day that are waiting to be picked up and reviewed by his hands. They look so heavy now and yet so inconsequential so that he could just pick one up and go over it, he has plenty of time but really he has no time at all. He is alone and this is his responsibility, one he has done time and time again and can do again but there might not be another time. They look so heavy. Leaning against the desk, his hands pressed firmly on its surface, he hangs down his head in defeat. Then, he stands up slowly with a deep vent in and glares at his desk. With a quick flurry of limbs, he sends the datapads scattering off his desk to clang and clatter against the floor, the sounds becoming deafening in the silence. He returns to leaning against his desk after the last one settles.

“What does it mean?”

* * *

->NyonRP17: I’m guessing this game doesn’t have low stakes, does it?

->_167P-LM: So you’ll play?

->NyonRP17: It’s not like I have much of a choice.

->NyonRP17: I play your game or you kill everyone or something right?

* * *

Rodimus walks along the rough path in time with Starscream as they overlook the spark wells with a few of them showing little dots of light indicating new sparks, new life. The wells stretch out for what feels like miles, falling just short of the horizon. The gray earth is riddled with cracks and deep gouges among the wide, round indents that form the wells themselves. Faint glittering in the surface indicates the trace metals and sentio metallico impregnated into the wells which means that this should be a healthy and plentiful spark site. Starscream’s expression reads the exact opposite and it’s not as though Rodimus was called here just so the wells could be shown off, something was wrong. As a facilities caretaker passes by with a cluster, Starscream schools his expression, even going so far as to broadly smile at the sparklings walking by with their tiny hands holding each other. Rodimus watches them go by as their little pedes softly pad the ground with tiny clicks and their large, round optics stare widely up at him in awe, some even looking at him with hope. His spark burns as they disappear into one of the on-site classrooms and settle in with their designated caretaker and he has to force himself to turn away. The burning dulls to a fiery ache when he reminds himself of all the awaiting arms there are for those sparklings, knowing full well none of them will go without a home.

Starscream pulls him back to the task at hand with a gentle touch to his shoulder. He nods and Starscream continues to lead the way across the wells to a service building that is protected by a passcode and contains sensitive equipment that appears to be measuring soil quality and radiation patterns from Alpha Centauri among other things. They continue on past the scientist at work, diligently determining any possible health risks and spark production projections. From the main facility, Starscream leads him down a corridor to another door that’s heavily secured by another passcode, a keycard, and even spark signature recognition. Rodimus’ shoulders are tense as they enter into the low lit room that glows an eerie red. He looks around to see recuperation and development units where sick sparks are healing from radiation damage or sporadic developmental stages. His spark aches anew as he watches the young spark splutter or pulse weakly, their light being clearly detectable only because of the low-frequency light of the room. Even so, Starscream charges forward to a lift that has yet another security parameter that only serves to put Rodimus further on edge as they begin to descend deep into the ground.

When they reach the lowermost level, the doors open to let in a rush of cold air and are met with the hollow sound of liquid running through pipes and air moving through tight passageways. Starscream walks forward undeterred, his expression even grimmer than it was while they were on the surface. Their footsteps echoed through the smooth tunnels that carve their way through the deepest parts of Cybertron that are lit only by bright, white lights set low to the ground.

“I’m sorry for calling you out like this, I know you’re busy,” Starscream’s voice is flat and quiet, sending a shiver down Rodimus’ spinal strut at the alienness of it, “I know how busy you are. I would have called in Optimus but then people would suspect we’re in a state of national emergency.”

Rodimus does his best to keep up with Starscream’s fast pace and attempts to make his voice sound light and unaffected, “It’s almost like you’re saying Optimus isn’t busy.”

Starscream doesn’t respond and keeps his gaze firmly ahead while his wings pull taut as if ready for take-off.

Rodimus’ face falls completely and his optics flash uneasily, “Are we in a state of national emergency?”

“No,” Starscream whispers as he stops in front of another door and opens it to reveal a giant, softly glowing orb amidst a series of tubes and pipes that are only faintly glowing or completely dead, “We’re in a global, possibly interplanetary state of emergency.”

Rodimus steps forward slowly, staring at the thing, no, the being in front of him as though he were in a trance and begins to reach out to them only to flinch back as he realizes what he was about to do.

“What is this place?” Rodimus asks in a hush.

Starscream walks up beside him and crosses his arms, “This is Vector Sigma’s domain. Essentially, it’s where she operates all the wells of Cybertron and beyond.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Rodimus turns to Starscream, “What’s wrong?”

Starscream just looks up at Vector Sigma for a moment then turns his head to the side to look at Rodimus.

“You saw the wells up top,” Starscream begins and Rodimus nods, “You saw how few there were right?”

“Yeah,” Rodimus shrugs, “So, we’re at the end of a harvest that’s pretty normal.”

Starscream shakes his head, his optics growing dim, “We’re not at the end of a harvest, we’re at the start of one.”

Rodimus steps back, reeling from the blow of Starscream’s words.

“The largest cluster we’ve counted is five and that’s not just here, that’s planet-wide,” Starscream continues, every word falling from his mouth like another blow, “The rate of sparking is dropping so fast we can’t make accurate projections but as far as we can tell we have maybe two more harvests after this one before the wells go completely dry.”

Rodimus looks back to Vector Sigma, “Is she sick? Is the connected system malfunctioning?”

He sees Starscream shake his head out of the corner of his optic, “She’s perfectly healthy and everything is operational.”

“Then why is this happening?”

“We don’t know,” Starscream vents out, “We don’t know and that’s terrifying. This is what started happening just before the war broke out as a kind of defense mechanism. It was a matter of survival then, the systems were blocked off to all Cybertronians and no newsparks were made during the war that would otherwise die in the conflict or be used as a bartering tool.”

“But the war’s over!” Rodimus cries out and Starscream covers his mouth as if to hold back the deep sadness that’s beginning to appear on his face.

“It is,” Starscream vents out shakily and lets his hand fall away, “Which leaves only a few options: that something is wrong in the base coding of Cybertron or something is on its way.”

* * *

There’s another long delay before the next message that has Rodimus’ spark spinning out of control until another ping pops up and he lets out the vent he was holding.

->_167P-LM: I’ll explain the rules.

* * *

Rodimus lets Percussive play with the kibble on his helm while he sits on Rodimus’ shoulders and Cosmos and Soundwave gather datapads full of readings from the various satellites in Cybertron’s orbit. Soundwave rushes around their shared lab with a very happy and giggling Hexbolt under one arm and collection of datapads in the other. Cosmos flits about from one console to another, double and triple-checking his work only pausing to find Astronotron’s datapad of novels that they gratefully take from their Curae once it’s found and then settles down in a corner to read. Soundwave sets down the datapads on a table and shifts Hexbolt onto his shoulder before sifting through them all just as Cosmos comes over with a completely different datapad and hands it to him. Soundwave looks it over quickly and nods then gives Cosmos a quick kiss before handing Hexbolt over to him and walking to Rodimus. Rodimus lifts Percussive off his shoulders and trades him for the datapad in Soundwave’s hand. Percussive giggles as he traded over and set on his Curae’s shoulders while Rodimus begins looking over the datapad. Most of what’s on it are things he can’t quite parse out but he does notice how the frequency of electromagnetic fields around certain communication towers is unusual.

“Any idea where these energy signatures could be coming from?” Rodimus asks with his voice dragging from his exhaustion.

Cosmos comes over and pulls up some imaging from one of their radio dishes, “There’s no clear source but you see this intensity around these satellites? They’re a connected system and they’re the devices responsible for the signal being bounced around,”

Rodimus looks over it and nods, “Okay, but what’s so unusual about that? They’re satellites, that’s what they’re supposed to do.”

“Correct,” Soundwave sets Percussive down next to his sibling and turns back to Rodimus, “However, these aren’t any satellites we’ve used in the past four million years. These are Pre-war, possibly Pre-Golden Age satellites. We’ve been observing them out of curiosity and to see if we can reconnect them with our communication systems but have yet to be successful. For them to be this active without anyone sending a signal in the first place is highly unusual.”

“You think someone got into the old system?” Rodimus sets the datapad aside and Soundwave nods, “To what end?”

Cosmos sighs and begins counting off on his fingers, “To spy on us, to obtain military secrets, to obtain scientific secrets, to get the lay of the land for a military strike, to intercept or moderate our transmissions for useful information, to gossip. Take your pick. The only way we’ll know for sure is if we figure out a way to trace back the signal but without a reasonable possible origin and too broad a scope, there’s no way we can do that right now.”

“So,” Rodimus fumbles with his hands, finding himself at a loss, “what? We just wait and see?”

“On the contrary,” Soundwave pipes up, “We figure out a way to isolate the system here on Cybertron and prevent it from accessing other networks.”

“So, it’s simple then?”

“Not so much,” Cosmos takes his turn to speak and hands Rodimus a different datapad, “This has our full report and our methods but what’s more is our recommendation for military and security procedure while we figure out what’s going on. Long-distance communications except in emergencies should be reduced if not stopped altogether, all security personnel should have auto-recognized security codes tagged onto their professional personal comm frequencies, any and all confidential files should be delivered by hand only if possible, and all security rounds and procedures should be considered compromised.”

Rodimus sighs and drags a hand down his face, “Prowl’s gonna just love this.”

“I’m pretty sure he does,” Soundwave crosses his arms, looking far too calm for the high-level security risk he just made Rodimus aware of, “He picked this job for a reason: he’s good at it.”

Cosmos coughs into a fist and mutters, “Pretty sure he also gets off on it.”

Soundwave gives him a look but Cosmos just shrugs and smiles brightly.

Rodimus’ optics flick between the two of them before landing back on the datapad.

“Well, I’ll be sure to inform the Lords and get this to Prowl,” Rodimus tucks the datapad away into his subspace before addressing them again, “Was there anything else?”

Cosmos and Soundwave share a look and Soundwave shakes his head but Cosmos seems to ignore it.

“Are you alright, Rodimus?” Cosmos puts a hand on Rodimus’ shoulder, “It doesn’t look like you got much recharge.”

Rodimus starts and sees that Soundwave doesn’t miss the reaction, “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m okay Cosmos. Thanks for checking in.”

* * *

->_167P-LM: I’m going to make a few attacks but I’m going to let you know when I’m going to attack and give you a hint about where I’m going to attack.

->_167P-LM: If you can figure out where I’m going to attack before the time then I’ll hold fire. I won’t attack.

->_167P-LM: But be careful, I won’t be able to stop my attack once it’s thirty minutes before the time.

->_167P-LM: Each attack will have higher stakes and the hints will get harder too.

Rodimus punches the display and it shatters around his fist, making a tinkling noise as the pieces fall down the module and onto the metal below. He vents hard in an attempt to cool the rage that has flared to life within his spark. Pulling his hand away from the destroyed display, he flexes his hand a few times as he looks it over, his mind in a whirl and he sees small cuts in the mesh between his joints that are bleeding thin beads of energon.

* * *

There were few things he disliked more than meetings but he could accept them as a necessary evil and certainly better than anything he ever had to face in the war. That, of course, did not mean he had to excuse the monotonous way Minimus presented his reports with every detail hammered out to how much dust was on the wall during which meeting. They all sit around a long, elliptical table in the middle of a very large room with a large window and a large door, everything is just large in here to be befitting of the Lords who are to rule within it. Rodimus always believed this room to have been built for the intention of being the throne room of Optimus and Megatron but with their minds on things other than grandeur, it had become a meeting hall. All these thoughts race through his head and Minimus is still going in that steady, dull pace. It certainly doesn’t help his distracted state, his mind moving a mile a minute while everything else around him seemed to move slower than tar. Eventually, Minimus finishes and Rodimus’ lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Then, the science team is up for their report, finally catching Rodimus’ attention with their primary announcement.

“Okay,” Wheeljack begins, Lazercore recharging soundly in one of his arms, her head resting against his pauldron, “So, this is a good-news, bad-news scenario.”

Soundwave steps forward looking relatively irritated, “What my colleague means is that we are experiencing a delay in a rather successful project.”

“I thought my way was catchier, more dramatic, get them interested after his monologue and all,” Wheeljack mutters while rocking Lazercore back and forth gently to keep her asleep.

“What delay?” Megatron cuts in, looking as ready to be done as the rest of them.

Shockwave pulls up some reports and a graph on the holoprojector in front of them before continuing, “We have almost completed a sustainable and low-cost method of energon generation that is in a practical sense, self-sustaining when applied long-term projections.”

“But?” Elita interjects from her slumped position, her helm resting heavily on her fist.

“But,” Wheeljack steps up and carefully balances Lazecore as he swipes through to get to some data points on the display, “trade with friendly planets has been delayed significantly, not dropped, but delayed. The resources we are in demand of are be rerouted through different trade routes for yet unknown reasons which are bringing up costs on normally affordable materials.”

Wheeljack readjusts Lazercore since his wild gesturing with his free hand caused her to jostle and slip some from his hold and then he continues, “The issue here, is that in order to keep on schedule we would cut in significantly past our budget and create a significant amount of debt that we are not equipped to bay back in a timely manner or we can delay the project and risk a steady supply of fuel and the livelihood of those working on the manufacturing of the project.”

Arcee brings up a general timeline of the project as well as her own team’s projections from the trade bureau.

“It’s not just when it comes to raw materials for construction, it’s everything,” Arcee explains and a wave of unease overcomes the room, “It’s like someone’s trying to cut us off from the rest of the galaxy.”

Optimus pinches the bridge of his nose and vents in deeply, “Our communications and security have been compromised, our trade has been compromised, and you all need to know now that our political position in the galactic council has been compromised.”

“What?” Arcee slumps back in her chair, limbs lax.

“There has, apparently,” Optimus groans as he stands up and brings up a popular intragalactic news board, “been rumors going around that we are preparing for war, again,” he speaks with a certain amount of bitter humor, “which isn’t too hard for the greater intragalactic community to believe. However, no one is exactly clear who we are going to war with but they are absolutely convinced that we are, in fact, going to war.”

“We haven’t even restored our population!” Strika thumps the table roughly with her fist.  
Slipstream scoffs, “As if that’s an important fact to them. As far as they're concerned, we’re just a bunch of bloodthirsty synths incapable of compassion or mercy.”

“Which just means that we no longer have a foothold in the greater scheme of galactic politics,” Strika sighed, “So, we won’t be able to keep them from passing legislation that puts our planet out of commission before we’re even up off the ground. They were just looking for an excuse and someone gave it to them.”

“The only question now is ‘who?’,” Bumblee doesn’t look at them as he says this, his dim optics burning holes into his clenched fists.

Rodimus pulls back, slouching in his seat, he says under his breath, “Who indeed?”

* * *

->NyonRP17: If I refuse to play.

->NyonRP17: What happens?

Unicron delays in replying again, building Rodimus’ ire to a peak and just as he’s ready to inflict further damage upon the module a message that causes his rage to sputter out into despair pings in.

->_167P-LM: I will destroy Nyon.

* * *

Rodimus looks over New Nyon, its brilliant lights shining brightly against the dark night sky like fireworks in slow motion, hues of blue, white, and pink bouncing off of gold and silver. A cool breeze blows over him and chills him to his very struts, making him shiver where he stands, his arms crossed. The chill is rapidly chased away as a large frame comes up and curls around him. He smiles and leans into the broad chest of his conjunx, letting himself be held, forgetting all that was going wrong if but for a moment. Thunderclash’s powerful engine rumbles soothingly through Rodimus and he sighs contentedly, very happy to just have him there with him. In this instance, right here, right now, he has everything he has ever dreamed of, everything he has ever wanted and he could be content in this small moment that means the world to him. Thunderclash kisses the side of his helm and that’s more than enough encouragement to get him to turn around and kiss his conjunx properly. He scolds himself, if ever so briefly, for having ever hating these strong hands that soothe his aches, or the large frame shielding his, or the warm smile that has only ever been for him.

Thunderclash pulls away to rest his forehelm against Rodimus’ and he has that bashful expression Rodimus knows he gets when he wants to ask about something and is excited about it.

Rodimus hides his smile in Thunderclash’s chest and mutters, “What?”

Thunderclash chuckles nervously and clears his intake, “Someone might have mentioned seeing you going to one of the well sites today with Starscream.”

Rodimus stills and looks up at Thunderclash whose expression immediately falls at seeing the haunted look in Rodimus’ optics.

“That’s not it,” Rodimus pulls back and takes Thunderclash’s hands, “In fact, we may not be getting a sparkling for a while yet.”

Thunderclash’s hold Rodimus’ hands tighten, and he can hear Thunderclash’s engine turn unevenly, “What do you mean?”

Rodimus vents in deeply and pushes it out slowly, closing his optics, “The wells are going dry. Soon enough there won’t be any new sparks.”

Thunderclash gulps roughly, his optics sparking with withheld emotion, “And if we were to put our names in, they’d just hand us a sparkling no matter how far down the list we’d actually be.”

“Which wouldn’t be fair to everyone else who also wants to raise a sparkling,” Rodimus finishes the thought quietly.

Thunderclash pulls Rodimus back in close and says, “Then we’ll just have to wait a little longer. There’s a way to fix this, we just can’t see it right now. We can figure this out.”

Rodimus holds onto Thunderclash tightly and then tighter still when he feels rather than sees or hears Thunderclash’s sobs, closing his optics as he gives what comfort he can.  
“Come on Rodimus,” he mouths to the wind, “Think.”

* * *

Rodimus gasps and turns from the module and starts to move away, stepping slowly then quickly then he breaks into a run until finally transforming into his altmode, taking the desert outside of Nyon by storm. Dust billows behind him as his engine rumbles with the exertion of how fast he’s going, his fuel lines singing with heat. Without even slowing down, he transforms back into his root mode in the middle of the city square that has long been silent and free of any residents. As he looks around, he sees the banners and decorations fluttering in the gentle breeze, the low light of the street lamps illuminating dark streets, the distant lights of people up late in their home, and finally, his optics land on the tallest building in the city. His home rests atop the structure of metal and glass where Thunderclash and a warm berth awaits him. His optics fritz and stutter as his intake tightens.

->NyonRP17: Alright.

->NyonRP17: What’s the first attack?

->_167P-LM: I’m so glad you’re going to play with me.

* * *

When Drift finds him, Rodimus is pacing back and forth in his office looking more exhausted than he’s ever seen him. He treads silently over the carpet until he reaches Rodimus’ desk and sets down the tray of energon and goodies he brought for them to share and steps back to sit in one of the chairs Rodimus has for guests, just watching as Rodimus works himself into a frenzy. Whatever this is, it’s of dire importance, Drift can discern that much just from the expression on Rodimus’ face and decides that even though he’s concerned about Rodimus’ restless state, that the problem in front of him needs to be solved first. With time, Drift realizes that with every four or five laps behind his desk, Rodimus checks his chronometer and becomes even more distressed. At this, Drift decides to stand up and gets directly in the way of Rodimus’ path who stops jerkily, startled by Drift’s sudden presence. Drift put his hands on his shoulders to keep Rodimus still, and carefully studies his optics.

“What is it?” Drift’s optics are as gentle and firm as the reassuring grip on Rodimus’ shoulder and he noticeably relaxes but not completely, “What’s wrong?”  
Rodimus shakes his head and lets his head fall slack. Drift studies him with worry building to greater intensities in his chest, his spark churning with dread.

“I know everything has been going to the pits lately but that’s not on you,” Drift urges, wishing Rodimus would look back up at him, “The fate of Cybertron isn’t all on you, no matter what that priestess or mistress or whatever she is said.”

Rodimus doesn’t respond and just slumps into Drift who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him to hold him tight.

“You’re not alone, Rodimus,” Drift insists and tucks his head into Rodimus’ shoulder, “You have me and everybody else.”

He still doesn’t respond but Drift can hear him muttering something under his breath so Drift just starts petting his helm.

Drift chuckles a little sardonically, “Isn’t Optimus the one that’s supposed to be dealing with all the destiny slag anyway? You should take a step back. You don’t have to walk into your fate just yet.”

Drift keeps petting Rodimus’ helm as the seconds tick by only to have belatedly noticed that Rodimus’ muttering stopped a while ago. Then, Rodimus says something unintelligible and Drift stops to make quick, questioning hum.

Rodimus lifts his head up, his optics looking off into the distance as he says, “Fate.”

Drift tilts his head curiously at him, “What about it?”

“Fate, Optimus,” Rodimus’ optics flicker in thought rapidly like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle with his optics alone.

Drift leans in, fascinated and concerned only to flinch back when Rodimus snaps his head up with wide optics, startling Drift.

Rodimus grabs either side of Drift’s helm in a crazed kind of way and practically shouts, “The Basilica!”

* * *

->_167P-LM: The first attack will happen at fourteen hundred exactly the rotation after the next.

* * *

Rodimus runs through the halls, Drift just behind him at his heels as he checks his chronometer to check the time to find he’s just a few seconds too late. The dread gives speed to his already frantic race against the inevitable. Everything else disappears into white noise as he opens his comm on the emergency frequency to Optimus and doesn’t let him get a single syllable in.

“Evacuate the Basilica, now,” Rodimus barks over the comms, not bothering to stop as he approaches the road, jumping into a sloppy transformation cycle into a skidding start before he’s driving off in the direction of the Basilica.”

“I’ve sent out the call, evacuation has begun,” Optimus’ deep voice sounds stilted over the comms letting Rodimus know he’s running, “Rodimus, what is this about?”

“Just get out of there,” with that Rodimus cuts off the comm, and races through the city faster than he’s ever dared to before.

A familiar engine thunders just behind him and he knows Drift is still with him which is a comfort, but he can’t help but feel guilty for dragging his friend, his brother into this mess. With no time to waste, he doesn’t dwell on those feelings and just focuses on driving to the Basilica. It feels like an eternity as his engine begins to run hot and his wheels begin to warm against the concrete as he drives the twenty or so minutes it takes to get there. He leaps out of his altmode with another mid-air transformation to run-up to the crowd he’s relieved to see gathering a safe distance away from the Basilica and begins to check through everyone. Everyone he encounters, he asks if everyone they can think of is accounted for and if anyone needs help. His spark begins to calm as he encounters more and more people, all of the faces he’s quite familiar with. Eventually, he’s satisfied everyone is accounted for, especially when he sees Optimus and Megatron approaching him, knowing full well they wouldn’t be out here if they weren’t absolutely certain everyone had been evacuated.

“Rodimus,” Optimus calls out as he approaches him, stopping just short of him, “What’s happening? Why did you call for an evacuation?”

“Curae…” Rodimus gasps, his voice is rough from the exertion and he swallows down as much as the discomfort as he can, “Something terrible is happening.”

* * *

->_167P-LM: And your hint?

->_167P-LM: History and fate are both made there and the ancestors are kept as an example.

->_167P-LM: Message me when you’ve figured it out.

* * *

Before Rodimus can say anything more, the final second ticks over and there’s a moment of silence then a deafening noise of splintering concrete and the rapid discharge of energy as a massive, blue beam of energy comes down from the heavens and onto the Basilica. They evacuees stand completely still, optics locked onto the beam in horror as it bores into Cybertron and watches as the shadow of the once-proud building evaporates before them. Then, just as quickly as it came, it dissipates, leaving nothing but a massive hole where the Basilica once stood. A deafening silence cracks the air and no one moves. Rodimus falls to his knees and a sound of distress breaks from his intake as horror mixed with relief overcomes him. Optimus kneels to join him and wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him in. Rodimus falls into Optimus more than willingly, clinging to him for any amount of comfort he can offer, his frame shivering from the shock.

“Rodimus,” Optimus’ voice vibrates through him and the amount of gratitude and awe almost breaks him, “What just happened? Who could have done such a thing?”

Rodimus looked up at him, still shaking and stutters out, “It… it was U-”

A sharp splutter of static erupts from his intake and his optics start to flash dangerously as his body seizes. Optimus catches him and calls out for a medic as the world becomes hazy and begins to darken. The last thing Rodimus hears before everything going black is the sound of Optimus calling out his name.

* * *

Rodimus slowly blinks open his optics and looks around to find himself in a medical berth with the usual manner of medical equipment hooked up to him to monitor his vitals. His head feels heavy and his limbs feel sore but other than that he feels pretty good all things considered. Turning his head to one side to where he feels a weight pressing down on the pad he sees Thunderclash recharging soundly with his hand loosely around Rodimus’. Rodimus sighs with relief, unreasonably comforted to have him there beside him. He sluggishly lifts his hand, the weight of induced recharge still weighing on his frame, and runs one digit over Thunderclash’s face, gently waking him. Thunderclash shakes himself out of recharge and grips Rodimus’ hand tighter, relief and hurt shining in his optics.

“Rodimus,” Thunderclash kisses Rodimus’ hand then presses it to his forehelm.

Rodimus slowly moves his other hand to stroke along Thunderclash’s helm, getting him to look back up at him.

“Hey,” Rodimus cringes at how weak his voice is, “I’m okay.”

“You scared me, you scared everyone, Rodimus,” Thunderclash whispers.

Rodimus looks away in guilt, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Thunderclash gets up and kisses Rodimus’ cheek, “It’s alright. You saved everyone. That’s more than anyone could ever ask for.”

“I…” Rodimus tries to find something to say but it all feels so flat so he just trails off into silence.

Thunderclash runs a hand along Rodimus’ helm and gives him a quick peck on the lips, “It’s okay. Save your strength. Ratchet wanted me to let him know you were awake as soon as possible.”

Rodimus nods and watches as Thunderclash leaves the room. His head falls back onto the pile of pillows supporting him and he sighs and just as his thoughts begin to drift away he notices he has new messages.

->_167P-LM: Good job saving them all.

->_167P-LM: I guess you win this round  
Rodimus groans, feeling like a pit is opening up in his chest and he closes his optics to steady himself before he sends off a message of his own.

->NyonRP17: Why did I glitch out like that?

->_167P-LM: It was just a little safety measure I put into the first message

->_167P-LM: This game is just between you and me

->_167P-LM: The little shock is nowhere near deadly but it doesn’t feel good either

Rodimus groans again and covers his optics with a forearm and tries to calm his rapid venting.

->NyonRP17: Isn’t one round enough for you?

->_167P-LM: No way!

->_167P-LM: I’ve just started to have fun!

->_167P-LM: I’ll message you again to let you know when the next attack will be and what your hint is

->_167P-LM: Until next time!

Rodimus reads over the messages again as he hears footsteps make their way into the room. He uncovers his optics to find Ratchet closely followed by Thunderclash, Drift, Optimus, and Megatron making his hospital room feel very claustrophobic.

“You glitched out pretty hard back there,” Ratchet pats his shoulder and gives him a quick once over, double-checking his vitals to see if they were normal, “How’s your memory holding up? What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Curae screaming my name,” Rodimus admits and sees them visibly tense, the shock from the attack still echoing long after it happened.

Ratchet nods and continues, “Optimus said that you were about to say something, that you were about to tell him who was behind the attack.”  
Rodimus feels his spark drop as a chill run through him.

Optimus steps forward and takes Rodimus’ hand, optics practically sparking with worry.

“Rodimus?”

He rereads the message and remembers the shock from before with a shiver and shakes his head, “I don’t remember.”


	2. I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus faces the aftershock of the attack and faces one of the toughest decisions of his life

Three days. Three days of panic and chaos after the attack on the Basilica with more questions than answers and trying to hunt down the source of the beam that had caused so much devastation. During the late hours of the day, Rodimus would wander to the blackened pit left in the earth where the Basilica once stood proud and shining without so much as a speck of dust left in its remembrance. He sits there in silence for no one else dared to go near such a place of such near devastation and no one spoke of it around him, fearing a recurrence of his episode. Despite it all, he still saw the looks, the worried glances that made him feel like they all saw him as this fragile thing rather than the proud Prime-to-be that had prevented devastation. It wore on him even as he tried to remind himself that it wasn’t true, his processor was just stressed and feeding him nonsense meant to hurt him and they were just worried about him. Understandably so. The shock that had been dealt on his systems had been completely internal and fried the motivators in his limbs so badly that they had to be replaced. Thunderclash would barely let him go for so much as a walk without him by Rodimus’s side which was sweet and Rodimus knew he was worried but he really needed time for his thoughts.

Ratchet did manage to convince Thunderclash to give him time by himself to the point of almost readmitting Rodimus if he didn’t. Rodimus could see it in his optics. Thunderclash was more used to being the one who was hurt than having the people he cared about being hurt and for that person to be Rodimus… Well, it was a new issue they had to work on together which is a more than easy task for patient and loving Thunderclash. Rodimus hangs his head and grits his denta from his sitting place on the edge of the pit. How he wishes that he could just tell Thunderclash what was wrong, he wishes he could tell everyone but he too was afraid of a repeat episode. At the very least, Unicron had been blissfully silent for the past three days as Rodimus took in report after report of what info had been collected from the attack, most if not all leading to more and more dead ends. Rodimus feels that if only he knew Unicron’s real plan, if only he knew where Unicron even was that maybe, just maybe he could be of more help to them. Instead, he waited there as a prophet of destruction awaiting new instructions on how to appease an unyielding god.

His recharge was filled with nightmares and newborn sorrows that can only come from a mind plagued with dread, once again proving the imagination to be worse than reality. Terrible fantasies of his loved ones being vaporized before him sear his mind’s eye, forcing him into consciousness in the breaking light of Alpha Centauri barely cusping over the distant horizon. Rodimus has a few hours before he must truly rouse but now knows from experience that if he tries to return to recharge the nightmares simply return in full. So, instead, he tucks himself further into the tight and warm embrace of Thunderclash’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Nowadays, it seemed as though Thunderclash’s arms were wrapped around him whenever the chance was provided as though he were afraid that Rodimus would disappear at any moment. Despite the worry, Rodimus is very glad that they are there to catch him should he fall. Opening his optics, Rodimus looks upon Thunderclash’s resting face and smiles softly then stretches to softly kiss his gently frowning lips then snuggles back down with a sigh.

->_167P-LM: Oh good  
->_167P-LM: You’re awake

All warmth leaves Rodimus and he slowly shut optics, venting in deeply as the messages continue to ping in.

->_167P-LM: So  
->_167P-LM: What are you going to do today?

* * *

Still technically recovering, Rodimus was permitted to work but only with a very light load and nothing having to do with the attack in case that would stress him out. Really, anything other than that was fair game but that had the downside of being frustratingly out of the loop of the investigation. It wasn’t as though he had anything he could really contribute other than the small hope that he could at least try to steer them towards the right direction and reveal that it had been none other than Unicron himself. Instead, he was here in some pre-Golden Age ruins with Brainstorm and Perceptor to oversee the on-going restoration project on some of the intact buildings they had managed to find.

Cybertron, apparently, had been a bit smaller than it is now and when people had run out of room around them, they started building up which created stratigraphically layered civilizations. Entire cultures could be relatively dated with mind-bogglingly accuracy and then radio-dated to the relative year. The end of one era was marked by the complete encasement by another and so on and so on. To explain this, Brainstorm and Perceptor had brought him to a crevice that split perfectly through several different ages nigh on perfectly to a dizzying degree. Changes in architecture and technological advancements were stuck in hollowed-out halls with layers of dust and welded metal. Deep chunks in walls and structures could be seen where older material had been melted or cut off to use for new construction.

The building they had uncovered was what they presumed to be a school. There certainly seemed to be the right kind of materials, rooms, and furniture for it to be a school. As Brainstorm and Perceptor go over the latest readings, EM pulses that had been sent throughout the structure to map out the power system, Rodimus wanders aimlessly through the halls. He peaks his head into room after room, looking around to see what he might find only to come upon rubble and destroyed furniture for the most part. Then, he comes upon a classroom that is more or less intact with only one corner crumbling inward to let a chilly breeze sweep through the poorly insulated space. Small, curved, heavy-set desks are connected to the floor and appear to have some sort of console set into them presumably for the purpose of completing assignments. They were the size for sparklings just about to become younglings so this had to be a starter school before they were handed off solely to mentors for the rest of their development.

->_167P-LM: Do you have to spend time with these guys?  
->_167P-LM: They’re boring…

Rodimus sighs and leans heavily against one desk, shutting his optics as he responds.

->NyonRP17: I have a job to do so yes, I do  
->NyonRP17: I thought you weren’t going to message me until you had your next hint for me

->_167P-LM: I got bored  
->_167P-LM: And I haven’t been able to pick my next target yet

->NyonRP17: A truly arduous task, I’m sure

There’s a long pause that makes Rodimus recoil at his own sarcastic reply. Probably not the best idea to sass an ancient god of chaos and destruction but he was tired and his sensornet was fraying. Unicron felt so far away and talking to him like this was beginning to feel so casual… Rodimus busies himself with studying the desk, trying to figure out how to turn it on and if it could be turned on in order to distract himself from the sense of dread making his spark spin rapidly in his chest. A message pings in and makes him jump but he continues his task. Keeping his hands busy has always kept his mind more focused.

->_167P-LM: What do you mean?

Well, that was… unexpected. Rodimus finally finds the switch on the desk, low to the floor and flicks it on so that a blue light emanates from the console showing that it did indeed still have power. Complex patterns set into the desk come alive with light and as Rodimus touches them, a 3D projection springs forth and surrounds the small chair in front of the desk. Rodimus’s optics scan the intricate interlocked patterns of the display, taking note of the various files that could be open. The centermost part seemed to have a half-finished assignment that was blinking and ready to be continued.

->NyonRP17: What?

Rodimus taps the assignment and it stops blinking then a counter in Old Cybertronian counts down from five and beeps as the assignment resumes. A display of a nearby solar system appears and glyphs describe the problem but Rodimus doesn’t know enough of them to decipher the question. A bar on the side slowly descends which likely indicates that the question was timed and awaiting an answer.

->_167P-LM: What you said  
->_167P-LM: I don’t understand what you mean

->NyonRP17: I didn’t mean anything really

Rodimus watches as the bar slowly trickles down until it’s about halfway and, with a shrug, decides to just tap a planet on the screen since that seems to be at least the kind of answer the question wants. As it turns out, that was a mistake. When he gently taps a planet with a swirling pattern on it and as he does so, the screen flashes a deep red and an electric current is sent through him making him cry out in pain. He leaps back from the console, holding his hand as the pain fades slowly. It was nowhere near the level of pain or current of his last shock after the attack but the small twinge brought back physical memory and he can feel it as parts of his body twinge in sympathy. The clattering of hurried footsteps then meets his audials before Brainstorm and Perceptor come clamoring into the classroom. Immediately trying to assess the situation, Perceptor is on the console to figure out what the problem could be as Brainstorm swarms Rodimus to see how bad the injury was.

“What happened?” Perceptor deadpans, still flitting his hands over the projection, skimming through files as the next question counts down.

“Are you hurt? If so, how badly? Do you still feel any pain?” Brainstorm bombards him with fast-paced words as he manhandles Rodimus, turning him this way and that to look for any sign of injury.

Rodimus vents in deeply and lets it out slowly before answering calmly, “I turned on the console and started up whatever program was already running. I tried answering the question to see what would happen.”

Perceptor’s optics land on the offending assignment and reads through the question, far more familiar with the glyphs than Rodimus informs them, “It appears to be a quiz but how did you get hurt?”

Rodimus shrugs, “When I tried answering, the console flashed red and I got a nasty shock. Wasn’t all that bad though. I’m okay now.”

Brainstorm’s optics twist with concern and with his hands still on Rodimus’s shoulders, he looks over at Perceptor who looks back at him with a stern expression. They clearly weren’t liking what they were hearing, that much was certain.

“Shocking younglings when they get a question wrong…” Brainstorm trails off and Perceptor looks back at the console.

Rodimus looks between them and realizes what conclusion they’re coming up with with dawning horror. As they stand there watching the program continue, the screen flashes red again then moves on to the next question. It’s a strange kind of tense as they wait for the next question to run out of time and disappear. This time, when it flashes red it doesn’t continue on with quiz, instead, the display recedes and the consoles flashes red three times while blaring horribly before finally shutting off. None of them touch the console as Perceptor stands back up, frowning at the desk with a stormy expression.

“Maybe the shock wasn’t supposed to happen,” Rodimus offers, “Maybe the system just malfunctioned after all these years.”

->_167P-LM: It didn’t

* * *

With the Basilica gone, all meetings and important political business now takes place in a nice but mundane office complex in the heart of Iacon. It wasn’t the Basilica with its collection of newly restored records and datapads on law both old and new but it was sturdy and would do the job. It’s terribly boring on the inside with white walls and gray carpets, feeling more like a gentrified prison than a building meant to hold life. This would just be another dark albeit dull mark on their history books. The loss of the Basilica is felt now but what about the future? If the same information that was stored in the Basilica isn’t restored then every word is progress lost. Now, though, everyone was working triple time and meetings take place as normal.

He’s finally let into a meeting about the attack because they’d finally made some actual progress on the whole mess but as anyone might expect it wasn’t good news. The general feeling around the table is that of a grim resolution that comes from fighting a war that had lasted millions of years only for some new mess to be dropped on them. This problem was a threat without a face, without a goal and no clear way of stopping which was probably the most terrifying thing that could happen. Even so, the old generals and commanding elite around the table just seem to take these factors with stride. They’ve been here before, mostly against each other and Rodimus didn’t know if he was proud or sad that they now faced this together. Probably both.

Prowl stalks the end of the table looking more high-strung than Rodimus had ever seen him while flipping a controller in one hand. He stops and with one last moment to steady his building anger, he turns on the display with the press of the button. What appears on the screen is a diagram of a satellite network with thin, arching lines denoting their various orbits around Cybertron. Just from the designs alone, even Rodimus could tell that these were old tech, pre-Golden Age satellites, the ones that Soundwave and Cosmos had been studying.

“From diligent back-tracking and a series of incredibly annoying triangulations,” Prowl tightens his hold on the remote briefly before letting out a very long vent and continuing, “We have pinpointed the source of the disintegration beam to be within the series of ancient satellites still orbiting Cybertron.”

->_167P-LM: That was fast

Rodimus’s hands tense beneath the table as he fights to keep his expression neutral.

“Well, then that should be an easy enough fix,” Elita leans back in her chair with her arms cross, “shoot them and be done with it.”

“If it were that simple,” Soundwave pipes in, catching the withering gaze of Elita without so much as flinching, “We would have done so already.”

A sleepy Hexbolt naps quietly on his chest which is probably the only reason she doesn’t start a full-blown argument with him.

Cosmos, Percussive and Astronotron in recharge on him, shifts slightly forward to draw attention to himself, “If we blasted objects of that size within our own orbit, the resulting pieces could fall out of orbit to just burn up in the atmosphere but they could also spread out and cause damage to other satellite which would hinder communications and our overall defense. If we were to do anything, the best idea would be to carefully deactivate them all individually and load them up into ships to be returned to Cybertron and disassembled.”

->_167P-LM: Yeah, that won’t work

Rodimus digs the tips of his fingers into the palms of his hands bites down hard on his denta, refusing to respond to Unicron’s taunts.

“Cosmos is right,” Prowl continues, planting his hands firmly on the table, “but we can’t do that until we know more about them. For right now, it’s best to keep well away from them and try to keep tabs on them all to try to predict when an attack may occur.”

Strika holds points at him and with a furrowed brow asks, “Are you saying that each of these…” she pauses a moment to count out the satellites. “Thirteen,” she snaps her focus back to Prowl, “That these thirteen satellites are all capable of shooting one of these ‘disintegration beams’ at any time on Cybertron?”

->_167P-LM: Yup!

“Unfortunately,” Prowl grumbles, “Yes.”

“Great,” Starscream snaps, his arms almost imperceptibly tightening around Lazercore who looks at him questioningly, “We’ve had weapons of mass destruction circling above our heads for millennia that no one has ever managed to notice.”

Arcee folds her hands delicately on the table and rests her head on them, “This time… I’m blaming the Senate. Frag those guys. They probably knew and didn’t want to take responsibility.”

“Careful Arcee,” Slipstream chuckles, “You’re starting to sound like a Decepticon.”

Arcee lifts her head so everyone can see her roll her optics but doesn’t comment.

Bumblebee drums his fingers on the table, “If we were even able to deactivate these satellites that still doesn’t answer the question of who it is that’s controlling them.”

->_167P-LM: You know the answer to that question don’t you?  
->_167P-LM: It’s not fun to not be able to tell anyone that you know what’s wrong

At that moment, Rodimus tenses as several pairs of optics land on him and a deafening silence overtakes the room. He clears his intake and shakes out his shoulders, opening his mouth just in time for Megatron to put a hand on his shoulder. Megatron glares down everyone staring at Rodimus who all suddenly have other, much more interesting things to look at.

Optimus’s familiar rumble graces the room and further steadies the rapid spinning of Rodimus’s spark, “If all of you agreed to permit Rodimus back into these meetings just to accost him with questions then you can forget it. He has made it clear that he doesn’t recall any information from the attack. It was an anomaly, yes, but we all know Rodimus would never purposefully withhold such important intel. Not with so many lives on the line.”

“I just hope that something of his memory returns,” Prowl answers back, surprisingly sympathetic, “Right now, he’s one of the best leads we’ve got. Other than him, we have a bunch of rogue satellites we can’t currently do anything about. We know too little about them to even try to deactivate them not to mention what defenses they may have.”

Rodimus nods and bites his derma, “I really wish I could tell you what I knew during the attack. I really do but I…” Rodimus grits his denta for a moment, fighting back the sharp sting in his spark, “I can’t.”

There’s another moment of silence and they all hang their heads, the general feeling of doom this situation provides hovering over them like a dark cloud.

“Well,” Wheeljack sighs, “That’s about all we can say about that for now. At least now we have something to focus on.”

Minimus taps his datapads on the table neatly and nods stiffly, “I think that’s exactly right. We should adjourn this meeting and return to our respective duties in the meantime.”

With that, the scrape of chairs resounds through the room and everyone shuffles out of the room not anymore reassured than when they had gotten there. Rodimus remains seated longer than the rest, lost in thought and optics unfocused. As he leaves, Optimus squeezes Rodimus’s shoulder and kisses the top of his helm which gets a tiny smile that fades as quickly as it appeared. Finally, Rodimus gets up and heads to the door but upon spotting Minimus a thought strikes him. He stops Minimus by the shoulder, keeping them both in the room as the others disappear down the halls so they’re alone.

“Do you need something, Rodimus?” Minimus blinks up at him.

“Is there something going on with Prowl?” Rodimus leans against the table as Minimus sighs.

“This attack…” Minimus stares at the closed door for a moment, his expression turning almost mournful then turns to look at Rodimus, “It just happened at the most inopportune time for him, especially him.”

Rodimus frowns, feeling his spark plummet as he begins to imagine the worst, “Why, did something happen?”

Minimus shakes his head, looking very apologetic, “It’s not for me to say, Rodimus.”

Rodimus looks down but nods, understanding that no matter how badly he wants to know what was wrong, if he was going to find out anything he was going to have to get it from Prowl. Minimus pats his hand before turning and leaving to go work. Dragging his hands down his face, Rodimus groans, mentally adding one more problem to his growing list of problems.

->NyonRP17: Meetings aren’t a good time to message me

A long pause spans over several minutes as Rodimus just sits there in the meeting hall, his processor clouded with recent events. Eventually, Unicron responds, his words making Rodimus flop back onto the table with an unhappy grunt.

->_167P-LM: We’ll see

* * *

Rodimus heads to the Wells just as another message pops in. He grips his helm, feeling annoyance build in an instant in his spark and he does his best to quell so he doesn’t say anything that might tick off Unicron. Unicron, for some reason, was being very chatty today.

->_167P-LM: It’s weird how they just had a bunch of sparklings in a meeting like that

->NyonRP17: This is a dangerous situation you’ve put us all in  
->NyonRP17: They don’t want to be separated for very long if at all just in case  
->NyonRP17: Besides, there’s not much point in keeping it a secret from them

He travels further down the path, following the familiar curves towards the secluded buildings where workers were busily moving in and out. The last of the sparks were being harvested today and the new batch of sparklings were being prepared to join the others in the care houses. From the care houses they would be cared for until they were assigned to new Curae. The waiting list for sparklings was a mile long and Rodimus and Thunderclash still hadn’t put their names down for one. One thing after another just kept getting in the way of committing to it. First, there was settling everyone in and settling into their own home as well. Then came the rest of the restoration of old buildings and deciding which were able to be kept or needed to be destroyed for one reason or another. Then it was convening the new official government for the first real time to set up the coronation of Optimus and Megatron as the Lords of Cybertron. Then there had been the mess with the Council of Worlds which had not been fun and now this. Sometimes it felt like they were never going to get a sparkling.

->_167P-LM: It still doesn’t make sense

->NyonRP17: If you say so

He finally gets to the collection houses and is immediately pulled in by Starscream without so much as an introduction. Despite his earlier foul mood, Starscream seemed to be in much better spirits now as he dragged Rodimus through the halls in near excitement. They all but burst through a pair of doors that lead into an incubation room where tiny, new sparklings cried and babbled in their little berths. Each berth is equipped with a regulation system that monitors their frames and spark signatures as well as maintains the appropriate environmental temperature. Starscream stopped them just at the edge of the room, looking out proudly over the sparklings with a little smile even if his optics still hold the same tension as they have for the past three days and gestures for Rodimus to go ahead and look around. Rodimus hesitates at first then, as quietly as he can, he approaches the nearest tiny, padded berth and looks inside with his hand hovering above the edge.

In the enclosed berth is an awake sparkling who, upon seeing Rodimus, reaches up with their little hands and babbles little incoherent beeps. He’s seen sparklings before but each was so unique and so cute he couldn’t help but be taken by each new one. The sparkling is on the smaller side with wide, yellow optics and their silvery, pliant form giving no indication of what form they may take one day. They're adorable. Reaching down, Rodimus lets the little sparkling grab his hand in a surprisingly firm grip and their yellow optics flash as a giggle erupts from their intake. A smile spreads slowly across Rodimus’s face as the sparkling continues to play with his hand, turning it this way and that to see every part of it. They seem to be enraptured by his colors and the shine of his plating as they manipulate his hand to catch the light. He laughs which seems to surprise the sparkling who looks back up at him with widened optics and their mouth shaped into a little “o”.

->_167P-LM: I don’t see what’s so special about sparklings  
->_167P-LM: They’re all the same  
->_167P-LM: Noisy wet little things

A chill sinks into Rodimus’s spark and he slowly draws his hand away from the sparkling who makes soft noises of protest, waving their little arms in his direction. Starscream comes over and scoops up the little sparkling only to place them into Rodimus’s arms, startling him so he has to rush to support the sparkling. They’re soft and warm in his arms as he holds them close to his chest and he keeps his optics locked onto them, unable to look away from their little form. Their little hands that are more like nubs find a secure spot in his arm and cling to him as their optics flutter shut. Falling easily into recharge, the sparkling snuggles into Rodimus’s warm plating and makes soft, sleepy noises. 

“The plan is to get sparklings and younglings into homes as soon as possible,” Starscream explains as he rests a hand on the sparkling’s head, his optics locked onto their tiny form, “Before we could take the time to ensure the sparkling would be able to be cared for by the potential parents or parent. Now though…”

Starscream’s optics dull and his serene smile dissipates as he pets the sparkling’s little head. Rodimus doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Starscream is trying to say so he has nothing.

“We’re spreading them out in smaller groups around Cybertron to reduce the concentration of sparklings in any one given area but that might not be enough,” Starscream sighs and looks up as though the ceiling would provide some kind of answer, “We’ve stopped going through the list chronologically. We don’t have the time anymore to do thorough checks so instead we’re handing sparklings over to those we know with absolute certainty can take care of a sparkling with minimal checks.”

->_167P-LM: Would you stop playing with the brat already?

Rodimus feels his spark break and slowly, reluctantly puts the sparkling back into the berth, gently tugging the sparkling’s little hands from his plates. He runs a hand down their faceplate and feels his optics beginning to fritz and splutter. With his hands on the edge of the berth barrier, he vents in deeply to steady himself then face Starscream. Starscream watches him carefully, his expression pensive which strikes Rodimus suddenly and the flicker of the thought of how Wheeljack has made such an impact on him passes by. He’s so expressive now, more expressive than he’s ever been. Rodimus smiles but he knows it doesn’t reach his optics and the effect is clear in Starscream who Rodimus can tell is readying himself to be disappointed.

“Oh, Starscream I… I want to take them home so badly,” Rodimus feels like he could shatter at any moment, each word another blow to add a few more fractures.

“But?” Starscream asks placing a consoling hand on Rodimus’s shoulder.

“But there’s so much to deal with at home right now,” Rodimus shakes his head, “I can’t bring a sparkling into that right now. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right.”

->_167P-LM: Just tell him you don’t want the thing and leave already

“I’m not okay,” Rodimus sobs and shakes his head more vigorously, “I’m not okay.”

Starscream pulls him into a hug and what a foreign feeling that still is but it’s nice and it’s grown warmer with time, with practice. So, he finds himself sinking into the embrace, crying his spark out, uncaring about who may or may not be able to see him.

* * *

Rodimus sits alone in his office or, rather, he was the only one physically present in his office. He knew now that wherever he went there would be the faint presence of Unicron right there waiting to peek his head in and scramble his processor. There was no more safe haven, there was nowhere he could escape to and he had to be careful with what he said or did for fear the Unicron may hear it or see it. He tosses aside another datapad after signing it and looks to the doors, an irrational idea forming in his mind that he knows is only due to the madness that’s slowly consuming him. Getting up, Rodimus heads to the door and hard locks it so only emergency access will let anyone in. He walks back and looks out the large window over the city and folds his hands behind his back.

->NyonRP17: Can you see me?

A brief moment, the same amount of time it takes for systems to boot up Rodimus realizes.

->_167P-LM: Yes  
->_167P-LM: Of course I can

->NyonRP17: How can you see me? Where are you?

There’s a break. A moment for Unicron to think of an appropriate answer, undoubtedly wanting to make it suitably cryptic.

->_167P-LM: You couldn’t reach me no matter how hard you tried so it doesn’t matter

Rodimus squeezes his hands tight until he feels the cables in his hands creaking under the strain and grits his denta. More puzzles, more mysteries, more impossible challenges. He was sick of it, sick of everything. The war had been riddled with enough of those and more and he had to weather them all. He just wanted to live his life, he thought he could finally just live his life.

->NyonRP17: Can you always see me?

The answer comes much faster this time.

->_167P-LM: No

->NyonRP17: Why?

->_167P-LM: I don’t know I just can’t, you don’t need to know that anyway so why bother?

Rodimus pinches his nasal and shuts his optics, fury nearly taking over. Was Unicron really so confident, so self-assured that he felt like he could just let this information loose without consequences? A pang of dread hits him like a freight train but he pushes on.

->NyonRP17: Where do you see me from?

Maybe a more specific question was better. Any question was better really. He just wanted answers, done with stumbling around in the darkness of his own mind as he searches for answers to this problem. There isn’t any other way he’s going to be able to do this and if Unicron was willing to talk then so be it.

->_167P-LM: Look up and to your right

The instruction is strange. Rodimus reads it over a few times nevermind that it’s only six words but that couldn’t be right. That was with his office and he was the only one there. There were windows in the meeting room and in the incubation room and there are windows here. Still, slowly he looks up to his right, slowly dragging his optics up the wall until he reaches where the wall meets the ceiling. There, almost in the corner is a security camera trained right on him, it’s red light blinking faintly.

->_167P-LM: Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do people like it when I respond to comments or no? I genuinely can't tell. Sometimes I'm worried I'm scaring people away. Well, anyway, I know it's been a while but I finally figured out where I want to take this. It felt kind of hard to follow the first chapter but I think I've got some fun things planned. A lot of pain, a lot of love, hopefully a twist that hits. Anyhoo. Thank you for reading and I love you all.


	3. A Tragedy in Three Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus get dropped in the middle of the drama between Prowl and Shockwave and discovers something new about the past as he explores a dig site with Drift. All of this as Unicron continues to haunt his thoughts.

Rodimus taps the tips of his digits together and recrosses his legs, swapping which one was at the bottom and which one was at the top. He stops his tapping to lean forward to press his lips against his interwoven fingers only to slump back in his chair with his flung onto the back of it. Patting an arrhythmic pattern on his thighs, he lets out a long vent and lets his optics slide to the messy stacks of datapads on the shelves along the wall to his right. To all, it would appear he was expressing his usual boredom when it came to matters bureaucratic in nature but, really, he was just trying not to look. Rodimus was doing his best to ignore the cracked screens of the datapads that hadn’t been placed messily but thrown so that the once neat piles are now scattered. Their smooth surfaces are marred with a myriad of thin cracks, some spreading out from shallow imprints of where digits had pressed far too hard. There are scratches he doesn’t see in the desk in front of him where a pair of hands would have had to dig into the metal several times to achieve. It’s a trick of the light that’s making Prowl’s face have those dull shadows beneath his optics.

“Rodimus,” Prowl says flatly without looking up from the datapad in his hand, “I know this isn’t particularly interesting material but I would appreciate it if you would give me a moment now to go over these finds from the site Brainstorm and Perceptor are working.”

Rodimus sits up quickly enough to give him a brief sense of vertigo then he shakes his head and gives Prowl his full attention.

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Rodimus nods or, really, bobs his head which earns him a quirked brow from Prowl.

Prowl sighs and continues on, “You were involved in discovering how the modules in the school they found were operated.

“Yeah,” Rodimus trails off and rubs his arm, feeling the phantom pains from the shock.

Prowl nods sympathetically and sets the datapad down then folds his hands on the table.

“They haven’t been able to get the same program to boot up again, at least not the specific one that you saw,” Prowl explains, “You said you saw a diagram of planets, a solar system… Did you recognize it? Was it just our solar system?”

“No…” Rodimus shakes his head slowly, his optics looking away in thought as he tries to remember the glyphs he saw on the screen, “The only word I can remember, it was a part of the title of the diagram… It was ‘Judium’.”

When he looks back he sees Prowl lost in his own thoughts, looking suddenly very troubled by this for reasons Rodimus couldn’t begin to think of. Prowl picks up the datapad again only to toss it aside roughly on the desk with a strange, distant look in his optics.

“What?” Rodimus inches the datapad over to himself, looking at the part of the report Prowl had stopped at, something about foreign tech having been integrated into the console.

“That’s the system the Quintessons are from,” Prowl recites slowly, his voice hallow.

Rodimus feels a chill run down his spinal strut and his hand tightens ever so slightly on the datapad before he sets it face down. Unicron was becoming enough of an issue but two ancient horrors within the span of two weeks would be just too much.

“Why would they be learning about the Quintessons?” Rodimus mutters, brow furrowed.

“It could be nothing,” Prowl shrugs but Rodimus can see the distinct twist to his mouth that meant he didn’t even believe what he was saying.

“It’s never ‘nothing’ when it comes to the Quintesson,” Rodimus insists, standing up to pace to the shelves covered in datapads.

Prowl tenses as Rodimus observes the pile of datapads, “They could have been teaching the sparklings about the enemy. To know your enemy is to have power over them.”

Rodimus whips around with an incredulous look on his face, “You think they were teaching war tactics to sparklings? That they were teaching them to be small soldiers?”

Prowl spreads his hands out in the air in a passive gesture, “That’s how it was for them in that day and age if Brainstorm and Perceptor’s observations are anything to go by. Their civilization was far more militant, ruled over by a general rather than an elected official or even an equivalent of an emperor.”

Rodimus turns back and kneels, beginning to reorganize the datapads while setting aside the ones too damaged to use anymore as he thinks. It hadn’t been the first school that had been discovered in the layer Brainstorm and Perceptor were studying but it was certainly the most unique, an outlier. All the other schools had been almost completely uniform in size, shape, and layout barring a few small differences here and there. This school, however, was smaller, more specialized and meant for a much smaller attendance than the other schools with far more space sectioned out for staff and equipment than students. It didn’t make much sense.

“These sparklings were being trained for something,” Prowl’s words echo Rodimus’s thoughts, “If not for war than what?”

Rodimus sighs as he slides the last datapad back into place then carries over the broken ones back to Prowl’s desk.

“I don’t know,” Rodimus pinches the bridge of his nose, “It’s all so weird. To think that Cybertron could have ever looked like that, to have been like that. I don’t know…”

Prowl pats his arm, getting Rodimus to look at him. Prowl’s optics are soft with a calm understanding and from this angle, Rodimus could see how tired Prowl really was as though he hadn’t gotten recharge in years.

“If we learn from our past then we can restore old developments and prevent past mistakes,” Prowl turns back to his desk, finally letting his shoulders sag with the weight of his exhaustion, “I think we’ll need your innate intuition as this project continues. I’d appreciate it if you continued to oversee the project and help where you can. Drift even has his hands in this.”

“Drift?” Rodimus perks up in interest.

Prowl makes a half shrug, waving his hand in “there it is” gesture.

“He’s the top in his field,” Prowl says with a laugh that verges on disbelieving, “His field being, apparently, Cybertronian religious history and symbolism.”

Rodimus grins at that, “He does like his folklore.”

“True enough,” Prowl huffs then drags his optics to look at the untouched stack of datapads, the still whole ones and grumbles, “Well, thank you, Rodimus for meeting with me but I have a lot of work I need to get to.”

Rodimus chuckles softly and waves as he heads to the door, “Sure thing, Prowl. I’ll be seeing you.”

Prowl waves without looking as he pulls the first of many datapads from the stack and starts looking over it, resting his helm against his fist. Rodimus turns to the door then stops with his head resting against the frame as he hovers between the hall and the office. He bites his derma and looks back at Prowl now reading over reports diligently as indecision starts to whirl in his spark. Stepping back from the door he lets it fall shut behind him and turns back to face Prowl. Noticing he was still there, Prowl looks up at Rodimus with a silent question written on his face.

“I was just wondering,” Rodimus twiddles his thumbs, no longer able to meet Prowl’s optics, “Are you okay?”

Prowl sets the datapad down with a soft clicking sound as it hits the metal, “Yes, Rodimus, I am quite well.”

“You sure?” Rodimus squeaks, his plating tightening against his frame as he can practically feel Prowl’s agitation rolling off of him.

“Yes, Rodimus.”

Rodimus clears his intake and more seriously, more cautiously asks, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Shockwave would it?”

At the mention of Shockwave’s name, Prowl’s fingers scrape against the desk, making a horrible shriek as the tips of his digits leave more shallow gouges in their wake.

“Shockwave is perfectly fine,” Prowl states, his tone unnervingly even, “Now, I need to get back to work, so, I’d like to be left alone now.”

Rodimus stiffens but nods and rushes out the door, spark whirling unevenly with confusion and worry. He’s never seen Prowl cry before.

* * *

->_167P-LM: Where are you headed now?

->NyonRP17: Still don’t have your hint for me?

Rodimus drives on, his tires rolling over the road pleasantly as he heads to where Drift told him to meet. The wind rushes over his frame pleasantly, cool but not cold thanks to the pleasant weather they’ve been having, probably the only good thing to come out of the past few weeks. The entrance to lift that would take them into the chasm comes up over the horizon and Rodimus spots Drift’s familiar, gleaming white frame. Drift stands up, pushing off the wall where he’d been leaning casually to wave at Rodimus. Rodimus transforms into a flying jump, landing on his pedes gracefully before walking towards his Amica, his clustermate, his brother. Without so much as a greeting, Rodimus all but falls into Drift’s embrace with a sigh of relief, feeling a piece of his stress and worry lifted from him. Drift holds him tight without question but does give him a concerned look as they pull back from each other. Rodimus waves him off and walks toward the lift.

->_167P-LM: I was busy

Rodimus shudders, any good feelings he was developing gone in an instant at the implication those words have.

Drift puts a hand on his shoulder, “You okay?”

Rodimus offers him a strained smile, “I’ve been better but right now I just need to get my processor off things, you know?”

“I can get that,” Drift nods but Rodimus knows he hasn’t dodged a conversation completely.

->_167P-LM: You didn’t answer my question

->NyonRP17: The dig site

->_167P-LM: Oh  
->_167P-LM: That place

“Come on,” Rodimus nudges Drift playfully, “Show me what’s got you so excited.”

Drift’s face splits into a wide smile and he takes Rodimus’s hand to pull him out of the lift towards another uncovered section of the city. They twist down ancient roads past what must have been shops once with signs covered in ancient glyphs until they reach what was probably once a residential district. They approach a reasonably sized home without much adornment but it has little touches here and there that give it life, that make it feel lived-in. There are small, cheap crystals along the doorstep and a stained glass hanging in the window, its chain rusted with age and looking as though it could fall at any moment. A little stone garden sits in front of the home, mussed and marred by time but undeniably purposeful in its placement. Drift walks up and opens the front door by force, the access panel long since inactive, holding it open for Rodimus. He approaches the door but hesitates when a message pings in.

->_167P-LM: Don’t go in

Rodimus stops cold and squints into the darkness, looking around for… whatever it was that had Unicron of all people warning him. Seeing nothing, he sends a message back, feeling Drift’s optics burning into him with curiosity.

->NyonRP17: Why?

->_167P-LM: It’s a place that should be forgotten

Sighing, Rodimus steps inside finding Unicron’s words as meaningless and unhelpful as ever. Looking around he finds the normal makeup of a house meant for a couple to live together: a table in the dining space with two chairs, a device that looked like a 3D projector with a seat that has enough room for two mechs next to it, and a bedroom with a large berth in it complete with connected washracks. It’s a normal home meant for normal mechs who were just living normal lives. Everything about the place read “simple comfort” but now that Rodimus was in the shadows of the ruin broken with dust-filled beams of sunlight, he could feel something off, something not right. Something was prickling in the back of his processor telling him not to look in the corner of the main room. There was something there but he shouldn’t look. There was something there he didn’t want to see. He shouldn’t look.

“Roddy,” Drift calls, his voice breaking the spell and clearing the fog from Rodimus’s mind, “this is what I wanted to show you.”

Rodimus looks and Drifts kneeling in the corner of the main room next to a small structure adorned with more crystals with a stone tablet propped up on it. Slowly, he walks over, still a little shaken from his brief episode and cautious of this otherwise inconspicuous thing. He kneels next to Drift and takes a closer look at the tablet, it has a strange symbol of a circle with what appears to be six beams coming from it with glyphs carved beautifully beneath it. Used incense sits in a clay pot next to crystal flowers and the other crystals he’d seen from afar.

“It’s a shrine,” Rodimus vents out, his bafflement peaking.

“It is,” Drift leans forward excitedly, happy to see he caught on so quickly, “There’re a few shrines like this in some of the other homes but only one or two have shrines with this symbol and inscription out of about fifty or so shrines. Makes it kind of unique.”

“What is it for?” Rodimus asks softly as he reaches out, running his hand gently over the glyphs.

Drift huffs a sigh, his upbeat demeanor ebbing slightly, “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. There are no symbols like this in any religious text or any of the temples in the area. I have no frame of reference for what any of it could mean.”

->_167P-LM: It’s a spark

“It’s a spark,” Rodimus whispers and sees Drift perk up out of the corner of his optic.

Drift bends forward to take another look at it, rubbing his chin in a way Rodimus distinctly recognizes as being the way Megatron does when he’s thinking about something.

“I think you might be right,” Drift muses then pulls out a datapad and makes a few notes.

Rodimus looks down at the glyphs, now having enough time to slowly work them over, he can finally make out their complete meaning.

“It would make sense with the inscription too,” Rodimus trails a finger under them as he reads it out, “‘Primus, protect our little light.’”

Drift pauses in his writing and looks over the datapad at the inscription then turns to Rodimus with an odd expression. Rodimus looks back at him, feeling suddenly as though he’s done something significant.

“There are the glyphs for ‘guard’ and ‘luminous’ but I wasn’t so sure of how they would be connected…” Drift recalls, his voice going soft as his optics unfocus in thought before landing on Rodimus, “I hadn’t found an exact glyph for ‘Primus’ though.”

Rodimus stiffens and feels his face heat up and laughs nervously, “Uh, yeah I’m probably off. It’s just there’re the glyphs for ‘create’ and ‘one who guides’ so I just thought maybe…”

Drift puts his hands up defensively, optics turning bright with realization, “No! No, I didn’t mean you were wrong. I think you’re right. You’re very close if not spot on.”

Rodimus blinks and looks back at the tablet, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Drift grins brightly, clearly excited, “It makes a lot of sense given the context and the possible meaning behind the symbol.”

“If all of that is, you know,” Rodimus swirls his hand around, looking for the right word, “true then what would this shrine be for?”

Drift lowers his datapad, his optics tracing the tablet with his mouth taut in thought, “There could be a lot of reasons why they would have a shrine like this. It could be for general protection or protection specifically for their sparks or protection of the home…”

“Well, I hope I at least helped somewhat,” Rodimus stands up and stretches his legs.

“Definitely,” Drift gestures to the tablet, “It’s always good to get another perspective on things like this. Also, I knew you’d have some interesting insights on this.”

Rodimus perks up at that, “Oh?”

Drift gives him a fond smile and sighs, “You’re hardly ignorant when it comes to our history, Rodimus. You were raised in a temple for the first part of your life and I know Optimus wouldn’t skimp on your education. He’s too much of a history nerd for that.”

“Yeah,” Rodimus laughs, remembering all the lessons he sat through as a youngling and the random lectures Optimus would give him when he remembered something interesting.

Optimus would often get distracted by his history talks that he would forget that he was supposed to be teaching Rodimus about a political system or math. It had never been boring when Optimus would talk about history like that and Rodimus never had any trouble paying attention to those lectures. He remembers how Optimus’s optics would light up as he told Rodimus about the foundation of the Golden Age or the past Primes. It also felt like in those moments that Optimus had been at his happiest, his truest self. So, it should go without saying that Rodimus also developed a love for history and all its nuances.

“I’m going to take a look around,” Rodimus calls over his shoulder and Drift gives him a thumbs up as he gets sucked back into his notes.

There’s not much to see in the small home but now that he was taking in the details he could see that everything had been pretty much left where it had been found. What was weird about it all was that it was like whoever had lived here had been interrupted in the middle of their day. There had been no sign of catastrophe in this part or any other part of the city along this level so it was hard to think of why the house would be this way. Rodimus stops to examine the kitchen and sees a cube that probably once held energon still on the table and something on the cook surface that had left a dark smear like it had been left long enough to catch fire. He takes one step and a sudden shiver courses through his frame. Looking down, he sees scratches in the floor and his spark plummets. It looked like someone’s pedes had dug into the floor to fight against being pulled, dragged away towards the door. He looks around more and sees a second pair come from the bedroom to join the pair that lead out of the kitchen. Rodimus walks down the hall further to look into the bedroom but stops short as another message appears on his head.

->_167P-LM: Turn left

Rodimus looks to his left to see a shorter hall that leads off just from the bedroom door and stops short with just one other door. With hesitant steps, Rodimus walks down the hall and approaches the door. Stopping in front of the door, he vents in slowly then lets it all out as he reaches for the door, pausing as his hand tucks into the pocket handle. Slowly opening it, he shuts his optics until he feels the sliding door stop, making his hand jolt as the door reaches the end of its track. He opens his optics and looks into the space before him. It’s a storage closet. With full body sigh, he feels every strut in his body relax and he slumps against the wall next to him. When his hand hits the wall, though, he stiffens again as the soft “thoom” of hitting something covering an empty space reaches his audials. 

->_167P-LM: It’s there

Rodimus pushes off the wall and gives it a few more experimental knocks, comparing it to the other walls, and confirms that the wall in front of him was covering… something. A deep crack scars the wall from the ceiling down, and he tries to look through it only to find more cement.

“What are you doing?” Drift’s voice startles Rodimus, making him quickly scrabble from the wall.

Calming down Rodimus watches Drift walk over to examine the wall and awkwardly says, “I, uh, think there’s something behind this wall. It sounds hollow…”

Drift hums while putting away his datapad and gives the wall a few experimental taps. Putting his chin in one hand, Drift looks the wall up and down before finally nodding. He puts a hand out to Rodimus and Smile over his shoulder with a mischievous gleam to his optic.

“Step back,” Drift commands and Rodimus does so with a wary look.

Before Rodimus can ask what he was doing, Drift rears back, lifting one leg into a bent position then kicks into the wall. The cement crumbles under the force of Drift’s pede, the crack becoming larger quickly, causing chunks of cement to fall into the space behind the wall that’s now no more than a pile of rubble. Rodimus coughs and waves away the clouds of dust to see the space that had been covered and freezes once he can see again. Drift walks forward with a soft sound of astonishment, leaving Rodimus in the small hallway. A cold sensation keeps Rodimus’s pedes frozen to the spot as he watches Drift walk around the room that has thin beams of sunlight filtering through the cracked roof, shining light on the pieces of furniture and odd bits and ends in the room. It was a berthroom for a sparkling. There’s a small berth with high borders to keep a sparkling secure, a toy chest with soft playthings, a care station, and a little rug where the sparkling could play. Slowly, Rodimus walks into the room and walks right toward the toy chest to pick up a worn plushie of a mech with a spaceship altmode.

“Primus, protect our little light,” Rodimus whispers.

Drift freezes and whirls around to look at Rodimus, horror written in his optics and takes in the room with a new fervor. Rodimus continues to hold the plush and wonders why this room would be sealed off, why it would be left here like it was meant to be forgotten and yet the people here clearly didn’t want to forget. Whoever had sealed it away didn’t want to get rid of any of this either.

“It’s laid out like a crypt,” Drift hisses beneath his vents.

That gets Rodimus’s attention and he finally looks around him and sees the truth of Drift’s words. The toys had been all evenly placed out, the little berth had been made immaculate, and treats that have long since gone stale are placed like offerings on a short table the perfect size for an older sparkling with the chair pushed in. Something horrible happened here.

Drift looks back at Rodimus and looks to the plush in his hands, “What’s that?”

“It was their favorite,” Rodimus says without thinking, still taking it all in.

“Really?” Drift quirks his helm, gently taking it from Rodimus’s servos, “What makes you say that?”

Rodimus opens his mouth to say something but then closes it, puzzled with himself and looks back at the other toys. Why did he think that?

An idea comes to mind, he gestures to the other toys laid out in rank and file, “The other toys aren’t as beaten up as this one. When it comes to sparklings, generally the more beaten up a toy is the more they love it.”

Drift lets out a soft huff of a laugh and kneels to put the toy back in its place.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Drift says as he stands back up and then flicks his helm to the broken entrance, “How about we head back up to the surface and grab something sweet? I think we’ve had enough revelations for one day.”

As Drift begins to walk out of the room Rodimus looks off to one of the corners and replies off-handedly, “Yeah, I think I need to clear my head.”

As he walks out, in the corner of the berthroom, a little red light in the corner of the berthroom blinks next to the lense of a camera.

* * *

“As suspected, we have been able to confirm that the satellites are, in fact, from the same era as the sites you have been supervising,” Shockwave drones on as data pops up on the screen he’s looking at, “We have not been able to disable any of them but we have managed to retrieve records from one of the satellite’s harddrives.”

“And you think you’ll be able to figure out a way to deactivate from the data you collected?” Rodimus looks over the datapad Shockwave had handed to him that’s now covered in ancient glyphs he could only sort of make out.

“No,” Shockwave states firmly, “These are service records and data transfer catalogs. It is unlikely that there is any relevant intel relating to the construction and operation of the satellites themselves.”

->_167P-LM: You should leave

Rodimus winces and looks back up at Shockwave who’s turned from his console, “But you think you might be able to figure out what the satellites might have been used for.”

“Correct,” Shockwave nods stiffly, “Normally that would permit us a way to write our own code that would interfere with the systems if not outright stop it. However, due to the difference in code language and operative glyphs, we won’t be able to write our own code without a significant sample of the satellite’s base code.”

->_167P-LM: Why are you even here willingly?

“So, more time needs to be taken to figure out how these things tick, good to know,” Rodimus looks to the side, the clean white walls of the lan feeling tighter as Shockwave continues to gaze intensely at him, “but I get the feeling this report isn’t the only reason you asked me to come and see you.”

“Correct,” Shockwave steps forward and leans in close to Rodimus, almost looming over him, “You had preemptive knowledge of the attack that you have since been unable to recall. Has this status changed?”

->_167P-LM: See?  
->_167P-LM: He just wants to poke and prod you  
->_167P-LM: You should leave

->NyonRP17: This is just how Shockwave shows concern  
->NyonRP17: It’s weird  
->NyonRP17: He’s weird  
->NyonRP17: But he wouldn’t hurt me

Rodimus shakes his head and Shockwave straightens back up with a nod.

“As suspected,” Shockwave says as monotonous as ever but the words still manage to shock Rodimus, “New inquiry: Do you recall how you received this information?”

->_167P-LM: Well I wouldn’t trust him

Rodimus bites his derma and looks with a flicker of his optics to the camera in the corner of the room then back to Shockwave. He vents to cool his systems then levels a serious look at Shockwave.

“Do those cameras pick up audio or just visual?” Rodimus points his hands out at Shockwave.

Shockwave seems as taken aback as he could ever be and replies, “Visual only.”

Rodimus puts his hands together and brings them to his lips, seriously considering if he could get away with this and how much he could get away with if anything. With the beginning of an idea, Rodimus grabs Shockwave’s shoulders and turns both of them until his own back is to the camera. Shockwave tilts his helm in curiosity but acquiesces to Rodimus’s strange behavior.

Rodimus gulps sickly then hisses out, “A message. A message directly to my personal frequency.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Rodimus winces and waits for the shock to course through his systems as it had before but when nothing comes, he relaxes and lets out the vent he’d been holding. Shockwave watches him with the same cool interest he has when it comes to any of his experiments. Then, he puts his one good hand on Rodimus’s shoulder and with a small pat he walks to another part of the lab then comes back with an odd-looking device in hand. He gestures to the counter for Rodimus to sit as he sets up the device. As Rodimus sits on the counter he flinches from the cold surface but eases back, watching curiously as Shockwave plugs in cables to what looks like a datapad hooked up to a frequency reader.

Shockwave turns back to Rodimus holding one of the cable ends in his hand, “I’m going to access your chat log and transfer it to this datapad, then we will see if anything can be found there.”

Rodimus' optics widen and a flicker of hope jumps in his spark as he begins to nod emphatically. Shockwave, taking the hint, steadies Rodimus’ helm with his blaster and plugs in the cable at the base of Rodimus’s helm. Once the reader is flicked on, Rodimus feels his head rush as a stream of text flows over his hud, making his head spin and just as he begins to feel dizzy, it ends. Detaching the cable from Rodimus’ helm, Shockwave turns back to the datapad and waits for the transfer to complete. He picks up the datapad and quickly flicks through through the log record on the screen only to stop and set it back down carefully. Rodimus looks between Shockwave and the datapad, waiting for Shockwave to break out of thought and tell him what he found.

“It appears your chat logs have been encrypted,” Shockwave taps the counter, still looking in the distance as he thinks.

“I didn’t encrypt them,” Rodimus insists, his spark spinning rapidly in panic.

“I know,” Shockwave nods but that doesn’t comfort Rodimus at all, “It’s encrypted using the same glyphs as the data we collected from the satellites. Interesting…”

Rodimus puts his head in his hands with a shuttering vent. Shockwave gets him to look back up with a gentle touch to his arm and waves the datapad intently.

“Rodimus, this is good news,” Shockwave informs him but Rodimus just looks at him skeptically.

“How could this possibly be good news?” Rodimus replies flatly, almost as flat as Shockwave’s own tone.

“We now have a sample of the operative glyphs and a piece of possible coding language that may also be used in the satellites systems,” Shockwave scrolls through the datapad again, “We may not be able to break the encryption on your chat logs but it’s possible that we can determine enough patterns from the encryption itself to write our own code.”

Rodimus feels a little better hearing that but the fear in his spark doesn’t completely fade away, “And if you can’t?”

Shockwave looks back up at him and is quiet for a moment, seeming to go over that in his mind carefully.

“Then we will find an alternative,” Shockwave states simply and puts a hand back on Rodimus’s shoulder, “There is too much at stake. We will not give up on this.”

Shockwave goes back to the console at one side of the room and uploads the encryption from the datapad then begins running it through various programs. As he begins to work through the code, Rodimus looks around the lab with a downcast expression. He looks at the various experiments and half-finished projects around the room not feeling much better than when he’d first arrived. Then something hits him and he looks back at Shockwave. If he had stopped working on one project in favor of focusing on the threat to Cybertron that’d be one thing but he had several unfinished projects, which isn’t like him. Rodimus has known him long enough now that he puts all of his focus on one project, almost mindlessly and then moves on to the next one once it’s finished. This was starting to get weird.

“Hey, Shockwave, can I ask you something?” Rodimus slides off the counter and Shockwave nods his assent without looking from the console, “Is everything between you and Prowl okay?”

“It is satisfactory,” Shockwaves answers without so much as pausing in his work.

Rodimus looks at Shockwave’s back briefly then starts walking to the door.

->_167P-LM: Yes, finally  
->_167P-LM: Leave

He stops at the door and turns to look back at Shockwave with his hand on the door.

->_167P-LM: No  
->_167P-LM: What are you doing?  
->_167P-LM: You need to leave  
->_167P-LM: There’s nothing else here right?  
->_167P-LM: You’re done  
->_167P-LM: Leave

Rodimus shakes his head to clear his head of Unicron’s messages and focuses on the mech in front of him. He can’t help but feel just how wrong all of this was and looks around the lab, small and secluded in a building as far from Prowl as Shockwave could be without leaving Iacon. The bright lights wash out the white room, making it all feel uncomfortably sterile and closed in without any windows to let in natural light. The door in front of him is heavy and undecorated, painfully utilitarian and meant to keep everyone unwanted out. Rodimus knew despite his attempts to leave those like Prowl and Shockwave be, to manage with their own devices, that Shockwave was not coping well at all.

“I don’t think Prowl shares your feelings on that matter,” Rodimus calls over, not accusing but meaningful in his words.

Shockwave pauses for a quick moment, almost too short to notice but it’s there.

“He hasn’t been recharging well and he’s been, well, a little more destructive than normal,” Rodimus scratches the back of his helm then flinches as something clatters to the floor loudly.

Rodimus looks to find Shockwave leaning heavily against the counter, the reader now on the floor with pieces missing.

“It is best that we are separate,” Shockwave insists and straightens back slowly, “He was a distraction.”

Rodimus stares with flickering optics, feeling very uneasy but charges on, unable to accept the situation for what it is.

“You miss him too,” Rodimus words softly move through the air but Shockwave’s reaction is violent, blasting into the wall next to the console with the gun in his arm and leaving behind a smoking, black scorch mark.

Rodimus recoils with a shout and pants against the door, his battle systems rapidly engaging and mapped out escape routes filtering quickly through his processor. Shockwave grips his arm with his one hand, staring at it as though it betrayed him and looking more distraught than Rodimus had ever seen him.

“I am sorry,” Shockwave says flatly then turns his helm towards Rodimus, “I lose control when Prowl is mentioned. I cannot be near him. He is… logical but he has ruined my priority algorithms. I must recalibrate.”

Rodimus lets out a long vent, feeling that, perhaps, he understood what was going on a bit better.

“Love isn’t logical, Shockwave,” Rodimus offers sympathetically, “It makes us do crazy things.”

Shockwave’s hand tightens on his arm and he falls to his knees, shaking. Rodimus comes toward him to try in some way to comfort Shockwave but he holds up his hand, stopping Rodimus in his tracks.

“I have work I need to get back to,” Shockwave says quietly as he stands up again slowly, “You should leave.”  
Rodimus stands there for a moment, caught between pushing the issue and letting Shockwave stew alone, ultimately deciding it best not to push too hard. So, he nods and walks out of the lab.

->_167P-LM: You’re really sure he wouldn’t hurt you?

Rodimus grits his denta and scowls at the space ahead of him as he quickly sends a message back.

->NyonRP17: Yes

* * *

->_167P-LM: Tell me again why you’re doing this?

->NyonRP17: Starscream and Wheeljack are both really busy  
->NyonRP17: And I missed having some time with Lazercore

->_167P-LM: Well I think this is beneath you

Rodimus rolls his optics and adjusts Lazercore’s position on his back so she’s in a more secure spot and keeps walking to the park. It’s a clear day so Rodimus thought it would be nice to let Lazercore have a bit of outdoor playtime after being cooped up for so long with the panic from the attack. Starscream and Wheeljack had been so busy lately that none of them have been able to get out much if at all so, it was a more than welcome suggestion to Lazercore. The park itself was one meant specifically for sparklings on the younger side, perfect for someone Lazercore’s age. As soon as Rodimus kneels down to set her down, she’s zooming off, her little black and green frame a blur as she rushes over to the play structure so she can climb up and slide down only to do it all over again. Rodimus laughs and walks over to keep a better eye on her. Once tired of the slide, she runs back up to Rodimus and opens up her arms to him.

“Roddy! Help me with the bars!” Lazecore cries out with glee.

Rodimus reaches down and lifts her up around the middle, “Sure thing, Laze.”

He carries her over to the climbing bars and lifts her so she can reach them, moving along with her as she grabs each bar until she reaches the end.

“I did it!” Lazercore shouts out happily as she kicks out her feet in joy.

“You did!” Rodimus cries back, spinning her around then pulling her in for a hug.

Lazercore giggles then wiggles, letting Rodimus know she want to be put down then rushes over to the swings, sitting down on one of them. She waves him over, bouncing excitedly on the swing seat. Rodimus comes over and pats her spiking helm before taking ahold of the chains and pulling them back just enough that she would swing but not too high.

->_167P-LM: This is stupid

Rodimus rolls his optics and continues to push Lazercore on the swing.

->NyonRP17: No  
->NyonRP17: This is fun

->_167P-LM: There are better things to do than this

->NyonRP17: This is literally the only thing I want to do right now  
->NyonRP17: Unless you have your hint ready  
->NyonRP17: This is what I’m doing

A message doesn’t come in immediately and Rodimus sighs with relief, continuing to push Lazercore on the swing and just enjoying being able to spend some time with her. No matter the situation, she’s always a little bundle of energy and joy. She was one of the best people for Rodimus to be around whenever he felt down because she just knew how to have fun. Lazercore is just a sparkling after all, that’s all she’s concerned with, it’s all she should be concerned with.

->_167P-LM: What is it with you and sparklings?

Rodimus closes his optics briefly, willing away his agitation as best he can knowing he should have known better than to think Unicron was going to leave him alone.

->NyonRP17: They’re cute and fun to be around

->_167P-LM: They’re messy and misbehaved

->NyonRP17: They can be at times  
->NyonRP17: But they’re still learning  
->NyonRP17: You just need to be patient with them

->_167P-LM: No  
->_167P-LM: They need strict rules  
->_167P-LM: How else would they learn

Something about what Unicron was saying makes Rodimus feel uneasy but he tries to pay it no mind.

->NyonRP17: You really don’t like sparklings

->_167P-LM: No  
->_167P-LM: I don’t

Rodimus stops the swing and Lazercore looks up at him curiously, her green visor wavering slightly.

“I’m sorry, Laze, I’m getting a bit of helm ache,” Rodimus murmurs down to her, feeling very tired suddenly, “I’m going to go sit down but you go ahead and keep playing okay?”

Lazercore slips off the swing and walks with Rodimus to the bench, holding his hand tightly in her little hand then looks back up at him. She looks worried which is the last thing he wants but he can hardly blame her with everything that’s been happening.

“You need quiet time?” Lazercore asks as he sits down and he nods.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I need quiet time.”

“Okay!” Lazercore chirps, doing her best to be positive and hugs Rodimus as best as her little arms can, “I love you, Roddy.”

Rodimus smiles and hugs her back, “I love you too, Laze.”

With that, she slips off and rushes back to play.

->_167P-LM: Good riddance

->NyonRP17: Leave her out of this

Rodimus puts his helm in his hands and digs the tips of his fingers into his helm as he tries to hold back the rage quickly building in his spark.

->_167P-LM: She’s connected to you

He grits his denta and sends off his message before he can stop himself.

->NyonRP17: Picking on a little sparkling? Really? You have the power to destroy entire buildings and more and that’s what you decide to do?

There’s a long pause, enough time for Rodimus to realize he let his anger get the best of him with rising horror as each second ticks by. His spark is whirling with complete panic when the next message comes through.

->_167P-LM: Fine then  
->_167P-LM: If you want it that badly  
->_167P-LM: I have your next hint

Rodimus holds back a sob and curls into himself.

->NyonRP17: What is it?

->_167P-LM: All Cybertronians must be here once  
->_167P-LM: You have three guesses  
->_167P-LM: And you have until this time in two days to figure it out  
->_167P-LM: Have fun

Rodimus is finally left alone after that, no more incessant messages pinging in at any given time but he waits just to make sure. As he remains huddled up on the bench, a little hand rests on his helm getting him to look up. Lazercore is there looking up at him, even more worried than before.

“Are you okay, Roddy?” she asks, her voice soft and shy.

Rodimus pulls her into his lap and hugs her close then whispers, “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classes are starting up again but I have four day weekends somehow so I think chapters may be slow but not too far apart. I'm so excited for what I'm going to throw in next I don't want to stop writing but I guess this chapter is enough for now. Also, theories anyone?


	4. Mission Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unicron's interests in Rodimus are more extensive than they initially appear.

Mission Archive:  
-search  
-%high-risk%[Level 10]  
-/priority/(1)  
-#&/revised/-parameters&#

[FOUND]  
Search Result: Vector Sigma  
Status: UNKNOWN  
Mission objective: Locate and eliminate.

...

Subject: Drift [Deadlock] %(?)%  
Threat Level: 3  
Relation: Amica/Clustermate/Brother  
Occupation: Archivist/Archaeologist/Statistician  
-Specialization: Religious texts and iconography  
Other Information: N/A

Drift appears to be close to Rodimus and is always hanging around him, visiting him in his office and bringing him sweets. He has refrained to ask too deeply about the attacks and Rodimus’s involvement but further observation is needed to know his level of suspicion. Records indicate his “formidable” position in the Decepticon army and also has one of the highest numbers of confirmed-kills among the disbanded Decepticon high command. Currently, it looks like his life is incredibly boring following a routine of waking up, eating, working four hours at what is referred to as the “Grand Library”, eating, visits the Medical Center, working two hours at the Dig Site, eating, returns home. There is a one to two hours gap that is reserved for Rodimus (his only change in behavior since the removal of the political center). He doesn’t appear to hold any information about the location of Vector Sigma. His motivations are unknown.

Conclusion: Further observation needed

In the morning he does this thing, it’s weird and I don’t know what it’s supposed to… do. Rodimus joins him sometimes but they don’t talk. That’s what he’s doing now. Drift is just… sitting there.

* * *

Drift vents in deeply, holds it, then lets it out slowly, feeling his cables relax as he meditates. His thoughts flicker rapidly from one to the next in a ceaseless flow of all the events that have occurred in the past week and all the reactions of his friends and family. One thing stands out among it all: Rodimus, the epicenter of the tragedy and destruction who was suffering the most for it. Drift’s spark goes out for him, wanting to help his Amica but at a loss of what to do. So, he decided to meditate to wrack his mind for answers but has come up empty thus so far as time ticks away, tensions building and potential danger mounting with it. Then, a sudden presence makes itself known, breaking Drift’s concentration and looks behind him to catch the flicker of the light of a security camera going off.

* * *

Subject: Drift [Deadlock] %(?)%

Other Information: [MODIFIED]  
-/modify/&input-text&|file=new|

Dossier File Updated  
Read:  
Other Information: Possible ability to detect foreign entities.  
-More data needed.

Continue?[YES/NO]  
-yes

* * *

Drift sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere, especially not now with the creepy moment, he stretches out his arms and stands up to head to the kitchen. He takes out two cubes and fills them up with chilled energon and sets them on the counter. Feeling a very familiar presence, Drift starts to lean back preemptively as two strong arms circle around him from behind, pulling him into the warm embrace of a very sleepy Ratchet. Ratchet kisses the back of Drift’s neck then sneaks his hand over to snag a cube of energon that he drinks while still holding onto Drift.

* * *

Subject: Ratchet  
Threat Level: 1  
Relation: Conjoined Amica/Brother-in-Law  
Occupation: Surgeon/Chief Medical Officer/Disease Control Speculations Specialist  
-Specialization: High-risk helm injuries  
Other Information: Grouchy

Ratchet is Rodimus’s personal physician but for any major injuries Rodimus is required to see another medical official. He doesn’t seem to like this and has broken this requirement at least five times according to available medical files including treating Rodimus’s condition after activating the Prevention Code. Most of the records from his time in medical school are -for reasons currently unknown- redacted with access codes restricted to him alone to said redacted files. He is unlikely to know the location of Vector Sigma and any other related artifact.

Conclusion: No need for observation.

* * *

“You slept in really late today,” Drift comments and kisses Ratchet’s cheek.

Ratchet hums in assent as he drinks his energon then pulls away from it to say, “I’ve been working more than one graveyard shift but you knew that already and First Aid threatened that if I didn’t get at least twelve hours recharge he’d make an appeal to Optimus to make an order for temp leave for me.”

Drift sighs wistfully, “I really am thankful for First Aid… I should get him some of those energon goodies he likes so much.”

Ratchet turns Drift around to level a soft glare at his smug face, which only manages to get Drift to coyly hide his pleased smile behind his cube of energon.

“Don’t award people for keeping me away from work,” Ratchet grumbles.

“Why not?” Drift asks in mock innocence as he sets down his cube and wraps his arms behind Ratchet’s neck, “I’ll always be grateful for anyone and anything that gives me more time with my handsome Conjunx. Besides… I did let you cheat a little.”

Ratchet quirks his brow and asks, “What do you mean?”

Drift smiles cheekily, “It wasn’t all recharge, that’s what I’m saying.”

Smirking, Ratchet pulls Drift in close and hums low in his chest, “I suppose that’s true.”

Drift takes the moment to swoop in and kiss along Ratchet’s neck, nipping at it lightly, getting the mech to groan appreciatively.

“I’m sure First Aid can handle things a little while longer,” Drift whispers against Ratchet’s shoulder while giving it slow, soft kisses.

“Drift, I-” Ratchet begins to protest then Drift does something particularly wonderful with his glossa that has Ratchet gasping before he continues, “I suppose I can stay home a little longer…”

* * *

Subjects Drift and Ratchet exhibiting unusual behavior, switching perspectives.

* * *

Optimus sits at his desk and scrolls through the datapad in his hand with a deep sigh. Shockwave had sent in a request form to perform a further examination of Rodimus’s code which had to be sent to the medical board itself due to how extensive the process would be and that would all have to be upon Rodimus’s consent as well. The board might not even approve the procedure in the first place due to the recent trauma inflicted on his frame and the mental wear he’s been taking ever since. If it were up to Optimus he’d flat out refuse knowing full well that Rodimus would consent without hesitation no matter the risks so long as it would help. He’s already almost lost his Amare once this past week, he didn’t need an instance like that happening again so soon, neither of them did. That’s not all though, Shockwave has been sending his progress on deciphering the data logs collected from the satellite to him to be approved and then forwarded to Prowl which was completely unnecessary. They’re both at an administrative level and didn’t need his approval every step of the way. He knows exactly what all of this is about but can’t decide if his meddling would help, the situation is complicated enough as is.

With another sigh, Optimus tosses the datapad aside to take care of later and picks up the datapad with the documents relating to their trade agreements. Resources were trickling back through again now with the initial scare gone but it’s slow-going and many of their trade partners are still hesitant to return to normal trade. At this rate, they might have to resort to black-market deals just to survive if this went on much longer but only as an absolute last resort. Optimus could feel his spark ache at the thought but he knew he would concede to it. Hopefully, they could restore trade and clear up this rumor before things became dire so they could get back to some semblance of normalcy. He leans back and softly chuckles to himself. To think he’d be putting his faith into Starscream to ensure the security of Cybertron but it only made sense to put him in charge with how truly crafty and business savvy he is. He’d compiled a whole team of mostly former Decepticons to beat against the scandalous rumors, many of whom Optimus did not recognize. When he commented on it, Starscream told him the very elaborate and near-mind-boggling way the Decepticons had survived without surrender during the millennia the Autobots had applied interstellar siege tactics. To say Optimus was impressed would be an understatement.

He approves the latest budgeting plan from Starscream and stands to stretch his legs.

* * *

Subject: Optimus Prime  
Threat Level: 4  
Relation: Curae  
Occupation: Lord of Cybertron  
-Specialization: Busybody  
Other Information: Strange fascination with the alien music artist “Sturgill Simpson”

Optimus Prime’s major comm activity has been with Rodimus and the other Lord of Cybertron, Megatron with many of his messages ending with the abbreviation “:D” that doesn’t appear to be of any relevance to the personal comments contained in the message. The abbreviation may be a reference to another subject matter but searches in all localized databases have returned no useful or relevant results. Despite his unusual comm message practices, the algorithms used to protect his more personal files are complex and the security questions are all the more puzzling. What is a “hawk” and what is it supposed to turn into? Is it a new model of transformer? If his personal files can be accessed, the location of Vector Sigma may be revealed in those documents.

Conclusion: Worth an attempt to further observe him.

* * *

Megatron knocks on the doorframe after it slides open, catching Optimus’s attention who smiles at him as he walks in. Optimus steps over to greet him, embracing him as they meet each other in a kiss, easing into each other gently to savor the brief moment. Sliding his hands down Optimus’s back, Megaton just reaches his aft before his hands are pulled away by a smirking Optimus.  
“We’re in my office,” Optimus whispers with an unspoken hint written in his optics while unabashedly amused by his Conjunx’s antics.

“We are,” Megatron whispers back, his voice going low in that way he knows Optimus likes, “Your temporary office that we don’t have to worry if we break it and one that certainly needs to be broken in.”

“You are insatiable,” Optimus chuckles.

Megatron cups Optimus’s hips and grumbles low next to his audial, “Only because I know you love it that way.”

* * *

Subject: Megatron  
Threat level: 0  
Relation: Curae  
Occupation: Lord of Cybertron/Poet  
-Specialization: Boring speeches  
Other Information: Nice singing voice

Megatron mostly doesn’t matter while looking for Vector Sigma. His relationship with Rodimus is, at least, hilarious to watch as they constantly avoid the topic of Optimus and how Megatron is bonded to Optimus. When Megatron attempts to make a joke, Rodimus seems to take a moment to reboot.

Conclusion: Enjoyable to watch

* * *

Optimus looks down, his light mood suddenly gone and shakes his head while leaning into Megatron.

“I have too much on my processor to let myself be distracted, try as I may, my thoughts always return to the attack,” Optimus holds tightly onto Megatron, his face buried in Megatron’s broad chest as he mumbles, “It’s like being in the war all over again.”

Megatron wraps his arms around his Conjunx, holding onto him tightly as he reassures him, “Except this time we’re in the fight together, as we were always meant to be.”

Pulling away just enough to cup Optimus’s face, Megatron looks him right in the optics with that serious face of his and declares, “Whatever it takes, we will find a way back towards peace. We can do this together.”

Optimus’ smile returns and he leans in, kissing Megatron again softly with a hushed, “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

“Always, my darling,” Megatron presses his forehelm to Optimus’s and shuts his optics.

* * *

No other important information can be gathered from this interaction. Switching perspectives.

* * *

Prowl paces his office, stopping every once in a while to check his chronometer to see only a few minutes had passed and once again growl with frustration before resuming his pacing. Then the door opens, surprising him into a halt and he looks to the figure standing there, regathering himself. Shockwave steps into the room with a datapad in his hand and stiffly walks to the desk to set it down, not turning around to look at Prowl. Prowl walks over and picks up the datapad, not looking at Shockwave as he reads over the report as he pretends to not be affected by his presence even as he looks at him every once in a while from the corner of his optic.

“Did Megatron say why he rejected your proposal?” Shockwave’s attention remains forward, firmly, painfully away from Prowl, “I have brought my revision but other than minute details the proposal was wholly sound.”

“No,” Prowl snaps, tossing the datapad back on the desk and whirls towards Shockwave who doesn’t or refuses to react, “he merely wishes to meddle where he isn’t welcome.”

“That is a logical conclusion given Megatron’s history and patterns of behavior,” Shockwave still doesn’t look at Prowl.

Prowl grits his denta and refuses to show how much pain he’s in, instead, he decides to be angry because that was always easier. He could be angry and he hoped that if he was angry enough he could ignore the pain in his spark that’s telling him with every pulse to reach out and pull in the mech in front of him.

“Of course it is, I spent a four-million years-long war studying him and then a few thousand more during peacetime so I could serve Cybertron to the best of my ability,” Prowl grits out, tone threatening violence but his volume never reaches above normal.

Shockwave looks at the desk, at the datapad open to the very middle of the proposal, feeling strange, like he was floating in viscous fluid as his priorities become muddled and his sensors pick up the faintest heat differences in Prowl’s frame. In a momentary lapse, his processor connects to the remote access point he’d set up long ago, picking up the familiar biometrics of Prowl’s frame. He can tell from the fluctuations from his baseline how truly upset Prowl is, sending wave after wave of negative feedback to Soundwave that’s all made worse by the fact he knows that this is because of him. It’s dizzying and he doesn’t know how to make it stop, doesn’t want to make it stop. Some actions had consequences, payments and his payment was Prowl’s disdain for him so he has to learn to bear the brunt of it all if they were ever to work together again. The thought of that, of working next to Prowl sends a shock of positive feedback through his system that’s so powerful, he has to manually shut down certain motor functions to keep himself from shivering.

“Then you understand my position,” Shockwave finally looks at Prowl, his voice as passive as it always is, “I must be able to fully attend to the issues of Cybertron with no interference or prolonged distractions.”

Prowl almost recoils and curses himself for the burst of pain prickling his spark against his will, against his control. He was the only one to blame for this, this weakness he’d developed for Shockwave that had never been there with any of his past lovers. When any of his other past partners from a very short list had parted ways with him, he had felt melancholy and regret but not to this degree, not with this much longing intertwined within. Now, when he thinks of Shockwave, his twisted feelings burn him from the inside out, scorching his lines and warping his processor back to all the brief daydreams that he had once dismissed as mere passing thoughts of a future with Shockwave. Prowl had imagined a home for them filled with just what they needed, perhaps a couch and a vidscreen as well, perhaps a cabinet stocked with all their favorite additives, perhaps a skylight, perhaps… He had recharged so vividly once, he had dreamed of being in that home waiting for Shockwave to come back from an errand then meeting him at the door. There at the door, Prowl was holding their hypothetical sparkling to greet Shockwave. They had giggled as sparklings do with tiny arms outstretched. He had felt their weight in his arms. Their warmth. It was so real it felt more like a portent than a dream.

“Your inability to divide your time and energy between priorities is telling of your character,” Prowl replies flatly, “or, at least, your lack of interest in so much as attempting to do so.”

* * *

Subject: Prowl  
Threat Level: 5  
Relation: Mentor  
Occupation: Chief of the Security Department/Interplanetary Communications Director  
-Specialization: Throwing things and yelling loudly until people do their job  
Other Information: Anger issues, scary.

Prowl is one of the most suspicious individuals surrounding Rodimus. He has no related information but he is a threat to the game so check-ins might be a good idea. Recently he has been subdued and unable to focus completely on his tasks likely because of Shockwave the reasons for that are unknown. The very mentioning of Shockwave makes him angry and unable to work for at least thirty-minutes until he cools down. His overall productivity has been lowered significantly from projected amounts were he in a more emotionally stable environment. Several glitches and false messages have been arranged on the devices of his employees so he is reminded when possible of Shockwave to prevent him from discovering my presence. Now, it appears I may have to be more careful in the future because Shockwave might fix the problem.

Conclusion: Prolonged observation necessary

* * *

The pain Shockwave detects in Prowl’s system nearly knocks him back, making him lock his legs so he maintains the appearance of being unaffected even as his own systems send back numerous pings of negative feedback to his processor. His hud is flooded with error messages and possible recalculations before he dismisses them all.

Shockwave turns to Prowl fully, “My priority is Cybertron, everything else must be secondary.”

Prowl feels himself grow cold as his expectations are fulfilled in the most brutal of ways. Once again he was being made secondary, less important, unimportant in the face of something greater. In a sick and terrible way, he understands but the irrational part of himself that ever dared to hope is howling with agony as he tries to rationalize his thoughts and feelings. There is a lapse in his logistical systems and his body moves on its own, grabbing Shockwave and lifting him bodily moving to practically slam him onto the desk before he climbs on top of him. Prowl straddles Shockwave with the terrible idea that even if he may be secondary, he can still have him if only he reminds Shockwave of what he had to offer, of what it meant to be with him. He was not Shockwave’s primary priority. He could live with that. He could live with that if only he doesn’t leave again, if only he holds and touches him again.

Prowl holds the back of Shockwave’s helm, kissing his neck and shoulders desperately as he presses into him. Then, hesitantly, Shockwave’s hand rests at the base of his back before more confidently sliding up to between Prowl’s door wings. It’s such a light and innocent touch but it ignites Prowl’s entire frame, his back arching into the touch against his volition as he grips tightly onto Shockwave’s pauldrons. As Shockwave touches him, hope and joy erupt in his spark anew as he sighs into the attention.

* * *

Subject: Shockwave  
Threat Level: 6  
Relation: Unknown  
Occupation: Administrative Science Officer/Disaster Response Director  
-Specialization: Being creepy  
Other Information: Empurata victim

Shockwave is far too perceptive and could potentially cut my communication with Rodimus. Measures might need to be taken to eliminate him.

* * *

Shockwave’s sensors almost shut down at the conflicting signals coming from Prowl, the positive feedback from the kisses to his frame mixing with the negative of the heat of anguish he could detect in Prowl’s systems. Falling into the thrall of his warped reward system, he touches Prowl and is immediately met with nothing but positive values as he detects the shift in Prowl’s temperature and the spike of charge in his peripheral sensornet. He pulls Prowl in as close as he can as Prowl makes soft sounds that provide more rewards in his systems, pushing him on. The plating beneath his touch relaxes and he just can’t stop touching it to feel how smooth and warm it is as he presses his helm into Prowl’s chest. The ebb and flow of Prowl’s systems steady and the positive feedback crashing over Shockwave is absolutely addictive, urging him to push for more. He flips them over, putting Prowl flat on his back as Shockwave continues to explore his frame, wanting every last fragment of joy and desire from Prowl that’s sending him into a near frenzy, exciting and delighting him.

Shockwave runs his hand down one of Prowl’s thighs as he rests his helm against Prowl’s chest, listening to the excited spinning of his spark. Yes, this is what he needed, what he wanted as his priority is being recognized and his value systems are finally fulfilled. Prowl is permitting Shockwave to touch him, to see to his wants, to see to his needs, to serve him. He’s an addict, Shockwave knows this, a risk he’d calculated a long time ago when he implemented a way to create motivation in his otherwise unmotivated processor. Something, anything that provided too much positive feedback made him susceptible to addiction but this is more than that. This is an obsession and quite near a true desire. All he needed was to be around Prowl, to see Prowl in order to get his next hit. It’s horrible and yet oh so wonderful as Prowl gasps and moans beneath him. Cybertron could burn and die completely but so long as Prowl lived, he knows that his reworked prioritization would have him count it as a success. It would be a success for he would still have Prowl.

Suddenly snapping from his daze, a severe realization rocking through him, he stumbles back and away from Prowl, leaving Prowl confused and dizzy with passion on the desk. Prowl sits up, staring in a silent question at Shockwave who says nothing and flees the room. As his frame begins to grow cold, Prowl stares at the closed door Shockwave escaped through then falls back onto the desk and covers his face with his hands.

* * *

Conclusion: Shockwave is very weird and must be watched carefully.

* * *

Lazercore peaks her helm out of the door and looks left and right for any signs of guards then, finding it clear, steps out of the habsuite where her babysitter lays on the couch in deep recharge. Her little pedes tap down the living complex corridor as she rushes towards her target, filling the air with gentle clicks of metal against stone. Once at the stairs, she hops up onto the railing and slides down one flight then hops onto the other railing and slides down to the next floor and repeats until she’s three floors down. Lazercore checks the area again for patrols or residents then scurries to a door close to the end of the hall and knocks a little rhythm. It takes a moment, long enough for her to get a little anxious, then the door opens to reveal Astronotron, thin, gray, and quiet as ever, his purple visor glowing dimly. His siblings poke their heads out from behind him, little red, round Hexbolt and the white and blue Percussive. Silently, she gestures for them to follow her then heads back down the hall. Hexbolt and Percussive are immediately running out the door before Astronotron can protest to follow Lazercore. Astronortron looks between their hab and their siblings before grumbling as he joins them down the hall.

Lazercore leads them through the corridors, dodging patrols and ducking behind corners when she spots other residents coming down the hall. Eventually getting to the bottom floor to a large grate in the wall and with a bit of effort, she removes the cover. Hexbolt and Percussive crawl in without hesitation, excited for the next adventure while Astronotron stays back, hesitant to proceed as they glare accusingly at the grate cover in Lazercore’s possession.

“Come on, Astro,” Lazercore whispers, “I told you I’d show you the weird place.”

“This is a bad idea,” Astronotron hisses back, hands-on his hips in a good imitation of Cosmos when he was scolding them, “It could be really dangerous and we could get hurt or lost.”

Lazercore huffs and steps over to the vent, setting the grate cover down so she can scoot into the vent.

“Fine,” she sniffs, “You don’t want to come see the cool thing you can stay here and be a rusted gear. We’re going to have fun.”

Astro watches her move into the vent with crossed arms then looks back down the hall. He pats the sides of his legs as Lazercore begins to cover the vent again then rushes over to stop her, pulling the grate cover from her hands.

“I’m coming with you just to make sure you don’t get hurt,” Astro motions her to move back, “So, scoot over and let me in.”

With a wide smile, Lazercore moves further into the vent and lets Astro shuffle in awkwardly before settling the grate cover back over the vent opening.

* * *

Subject: Lazercore  
Threat Level: 10  
Relation: Little kin  
Occupation: Sparkling  
-Specialization: Mischief  
Other Information: Strangely stealthy

There is no logical explanation for how she found it other than dumb luck. It was in the most secure hiding place it could possibly ever be. That’s not the worst part. She figured out how to use it and now I have to worry about some sparkling messing with my settings. What part this could possibly play in all of this is unclear and I am completely unprepared for it. I hate it when things become randomized like this it makes things so much less predictable. If she could find this then maybe she can just find Vector Sigma for me.

Conclusion: Sparklings are annoying and Lazercore needs to be monitored at all times

* * *

The four of them crawl through ventilation shafts, twisting and turning at Lazercore’s instruction until they reach an opening that leads into a system of tunnels. The large, metallic tunnels could fit mechs much bigger than even their Curae, echoing with the hollow sound of rushing wind and the soft drip of water. In the dim, blue light, they can see pipes covering wires and containing gas traveling along the walls continuing on then bending at the crossway. A thin stream of water contaminated by an oily substance and coolant flows languidly down the tunnel, leading all the way through the crossway until it’s too far for them to see. Lazercore practically prances down the walkway and motions for all of them to follow her. With hesitation, the others follow cautiously, their optics flicking from side to side as they stay close together. Their little pedes tap against the metal, their footsteps sounding far too loud in the all-consuming quiet. As they walk, Lazercore eventually leads them to a door that is large and imposing to look at especially from a sparkling’s point of view. The door looks thick with a heavy deadbolt lock with a circular electronic locking mechanism at its center. A blinking console to the right glows a dull yellow with strange text unfamiliar to their little optics.

Lazercore walks right up to it and presses a few keys until something like a password entry box pops up onto the screen. The others approach it from behind her but keep her between themselves and the console. She turns around proudly with her hands on her hips and a broad smile. They all stare at her dubiously, confused by the entire situation.

Percussive takes one step towards the door, “What is this place?”

“I don’t know!” Lazercore declares proudly, “I just know it’s important, like the stuff Stormy and Percy have been looking at.”

Astro furrows his brow, looking strangely at Lazercore, “How do you know that? Why do you think that?”

Lazercore shrugs and just smacks the door a few times, the dull thud of solid metal echoing through the chamber.

“It just feels the same, I don’t know how I know,” as she speaks her voice trails off and she pauses then whips back around to them, “Hexbolt!”

Hexbolt jumps in surprise and splutters, “Yes? What? What is it, Laze?”

Lazercore puts her hands on Hexbolt’s little, round shoulders and excitedly whispers, “I want you to use your opening powers on the console.”

Hexbolt stiffens before ducking her helm down into her torso as she twiddles her digits nervously.

“My Curae told me that my power was special but that I was only supposed to use it during emergencies until I was old enough for training,” Hexbolt mumbles, not meeting Laze’s optics.

Lazercore sighs and pats Hexbolt on the head, “Come on, Hex, think of how helpful it would be to our Curae! It could be a big find!”

Hex chews on her derma, looking very indecisive then opens her mouth to speak only to be stopped by Astro’s hand on her back.

“Don’t force her into one of your crazy plans, Laze,” Astro crosses his arms and frowns, “If you’re so sure that this could be helpful to our Curae then why not show them and not worry about getting in?”

Laze stomps her little pede on the ground and balls her fists, “Because if I do that then I’ll never get to see what’s inside! I’ll just be kept out because I’m a sparkling! And if it is a really cool thing then it’s going to be restricted to the government people so I won’t even be able to see it when I’m older! It’s not fair!”

Astro’s visor flashes unhappily, “That’s because they’re trying to keep important things safe. We don’t know what could be in there. It could be really dangerous…”

“Like a monster,” Percussive whispers, stepping away from the door to hide behind Astro.

Silence cuts through the air as Laze and Astro stare each other down, neither of them willing to budge. Laze squeezes her servos into tighter and tighter fists as her frustration mounts at Astro’s perfectly impassive expression. Then, they both jump as the floor suddenly begins to shake as the door part open to reveal an even bigger space that’s dark save for a few, small blinking lights. They all ship around to look at the console to find a sheepish Hexbolt.

She shrugs, “I want to see inside the cool place too.”

* * *

Subject: Hexbolt

Threat Level [MODIFIED]  
-/modify/%threat-level% {4->8}

Dossier File Updated  
Read:  
Threat Level: 8

Continue? [YES/NO]  
-yes

* * *

They walk into the room slowly, all holding onto Astro as he leads them with the lights in his shoulders flicked on and set to full brightness. Looking up, they couldn’t see the ceiling for how dark it is and for how high up the ceiling actually is. Walking through the room, they’re met with incredibly tall processing units that all hum quietly with power and the soft whir of cooling fans. As they continue, they see that all the units are organized in chunks set in neat rows with space to walk between them and a wide path between them all. Heading down the middle path, they silently observe their surroundings to find nothing familiar about this place, it all feels so alien. A loud crash startles Percussive, Hex, and Laze into sharp cries as Astro turns toward the noise to find a cyberrat scrabbling out of an old energon canister. Sighing with relief Astro pries the others far enough from his frame that he can walk again.

“Relax,” he grumbles, “it was just a cyberrat, come on. If you’re all really that interested in seeing what this place is about we have to keep moving.”

* * *

Subject: Astronotron  
Threat Level: 5  
Relation: Little kin  
Occupation: Eldest of three  
Other Information: Patient despite appearances  
As the eldest of Soundwave and Cosmos’ sparklings, he is very responsible but lacks the abilities of his younger siblings. He is constantly trying to make up for it by being the best behaved and the best in his school work. Less attention is put on him than his siblings since he has been deemed to need less attention to keep safe. In Astronotron’s private journals he talks about this and how it makes him feel lonely. For reasons that I cannot explain, he still protects his clustermates as best as he can.

Conclusion: Strange and worthy of note but not observation

* * *

At the end of the room against the back wall they come upon a large monitor that’s pitch black due to the lack of power. After fiddling with the console for a moment, Astro gets the monitor to turn on so it shines a sickly green before slowly fading into another display. The scene before them only confuses them further. A place that’s lit brightly with golden lights set into the ceiling and empty stations spans out in front of them. There is no sign of any life nor is there any sound then the display flickers and an empty hall with a window that reveals the empty void of space appears before flickering again to a room that looks like a dining commons. Something about it all makes them feel uneasy and they back away from the display.

Percussive looks to the far side of the large room and sees another door and walks towards it. Noticing what he found, the others follow behind him with brief glances back over their shoulder to the display. This door opens at the push of a button and opens into a dark set of stairs that lead down, deeper into the abyss.

“We should go back now,” Astro quickly backs away from the stairs, “I think we’ve seen enough. We should go.”

“But we’ve gotten this far already!” Laze spans her hands out wide in argument.

“This place wasn’t supposed to be found by anybody,” Astor cuts through the air with one hand decisively, “There are things down there that we’re not supposed to know, things that would probably scare us if we knew.”

“This is a bad place,” Percussive mumbles, tucking themself into Astro’s side.

“See?” Astro gestures to his sibling, “Percussive agrees with me. Time to go.”

Laze makes a sound of disgust before huffing and running towards the stairs while growling over her shoulder, “Fine, I’ll go by myself!”

Hexbolt jolts forward with her hand outstretched, “Laze, wait! Don’t go alone!”

Percussive rushes after Hexbolt leaving Astro behind in stunned silence. He looks between the door at the far end of the room and the stairs in bewilderment before growling in frustration and following after them.

* * *

Camera [No Access]  
Signal: not found

Switching Perspectives

* * *

Windblade follows behind Starscream with her hands behind her back and her posture straight, disguising any and all weakness. If her time with Starscream had taught her anything it was how to lie with her frame as well as her words which was particularly useful in this case. The Mistress of Flame had been dissatisfied by the explanation that she had been given as to why the number of newsparks had suddenly dwindled to quite near nothing at an alarming rate of deterioration. So, Windblade was now relying on Starscream to show the Mistress of Flame that while she may have taken on more underhanded tactics now since becoming a greater intergalactic influence, Windblade wasn’t lying about this. She is just as upset and uneasy as the Mistress of Flame was about it all but that didn’t make the Mistress of Flame any less suspicious of it all. What annoyed Windblade even more despite not being believed, is that as the continuing religious leader of Caminus, the Mistress of Flame had the right to demand a more thorough insight on the matter which only served to satisfy her mounting irritability and slow things down even further. Even so, it was better to give this to her than prolong things even more with further arguing.

* * *

Subject: Windblade  
Threat Level: UNKNOWN  
Relation: UNKNOWN   
Occupation: Political Leader of Caminus  
Other Information: Spiritually in doubt

Windblade has been around more often recently and does seem to be trying to make Rodimus feel better. She snuck some of his work away and did it for him without his knowledge. For someone who’s so open about the need for the truth when it comes to big issues, she’s surprisingly sneaky. I don’t know if I like her or not.

* * *

They walk over the grounds of the well site towards the administrative buildings. Starscream does his best to ignore the disapproving tilt of the Mistress of Flame’s helm but can’t help squeezing his fists that much tighter as he forces himself to remain quiet on the matter. It wasn’t as though it was his fault that the number of newsparks had dropped so low. She should really be on her knees thanking him, after all, it was because of him that they had any at all. Rerouting core energy from reserves manually was not an easy task and without the energy being continuously restored by Vector Sigma, they lost a lot of the energy in the process of rerouting it. That was a small problem compared to everything else they were dealing with, however, so he could humor the Mistress of Flame for a little while if that meant she’d get from between his wings. There was no pleasing this woman, he knew now from extensive experience and could only hope that the same horror that had shocked him into working even more overtime would shock her into shutting up and getting out of the way.

* * *

Subject: Starscream  
Threat Level: 3  
Relation: Mentor  
Occupation: Counselor of Cybertron/Diplomatic Liaison/Synthetic Biologist  
-Specialization: Development and growth patterns  
Other Information: One of Rodimus’ favorite mentors

Starscream’s habits are very hard to track but he always comes back here. Until now he hasn’t given any reason to be observed to a greater extent. According to available files, he has a reputation of being a very good liar and betraying people at a whim. This does not appear to have kept Wheeljack from conjunxing him and raising a sparkling with him. There are several reports that people try to get violent with him while he’s off planet but that often ends with them winding up in jail or their community facing too many political issues to stay focused on him. Starscream has been trying to court Windblade into becoming his Amica with little success according to his personal logs and she remains to be oblivious. He is the Curae of Lazercore and should not be trusted.

Conclusion: Observation for security

* * *

They enter the administrative building and Starscream leads them down the hall to the elevator and punches in his security clearance.

“Where are you taking us now, Starscream?” the Mistress of Flame tilts her hips and observes him rather haughtily, “This is beginning to feel like a waste of time.”

Windblade bites her glossa to keep herself from informing the Mistress of Flame that the only one wasting time was her. Instead, she puts on her best comforting smile and turns to address the Mistress of Flame.

“The best way to give you a clear understanding the underlying issues of the recent harvests is to show you the inner workings of the process that are controlled beneath this well bed,” Windblade explains pleasantly, “We feel that it is necessary that there be no barriers or restrictions in regards to how much information is shared with you so we can proceed with our care plans.”

The Mistress of Flame harrumphs with the uptight air that’s expected of one of her position and then drones, “It is about time you came to this obvious assessment. Your delay in doing so has only caused undue grief.”

Starscream gives the Mistress of Flame a particularly withering look that almost makes Windblade laugh then meets Windblade’s optics before rolling his optics, safe behind the Mistress of Flame and out of sight all the while. Windblade nods to Starscream, shifting the attention back to him and he lets them all onto the elevator.

* * *

Signal: [Lost]  
-/reroute/

Signal: [Not Found]  
Remote Connection: 1  
Detected Signal: |secondary-optics|;Owner:Windblade^status-null^  
-/connect/%remote-connection%

Signal: [Found]  
Status: [Connected]

Continue?:[YES/NO]  
-yes

* * *

“As I have told you many times now,” Starscream’s voice crackles sharply in his thinly veiled disdain, “Vector Sigma is quite well. She has simply just… stopped.”

The Mistress of Flame stares up at the offline systems in abject horror, her mouth agape as she looks around helplessly. Windblade recoils in sympathy, knowing what seeing all of this for the first time and truly understanding what it meant felt like. She may not like the Mistress but she wouldn’t have wished this kind of fear on anyone. Their species could very easily die out now because all of this and that is something that could very easily humble anyone. One well-planned attack against them all and they would be wiped out without any hope of survival.

“This is…” the Mistress of Flame’s voice sounds hollow and broken, “Why would she do this?”

Starscream visibly softens and replies with more candor, “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

The Mistress of Flame nods slowly and approaches Vector Sigma, becoming enveloped in the soft glow as she stares in silence.

“I will stay here,” she whispers, making both Starscream and Windblade look at her with wide optics, totally silenced with shock, “I will try to find some answer from her. I will… do what I can.”

Windblade and Starscream share a look.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Windblade puts a hand on the Mistress of Flame’s shoulder and she nods before sinking to the ground.

“I will try to gather what answers I can in the only way I know how,” she whispers.

Windblade looks back over to Starscream who only shrugs and heads back to the lift. With one look back at the Mistress of Flame who is now muttering under her vents, Windblade follows Starscream back to the lift and, together they ascend to the surface once more.

* * *

Vector Sigma: Located

Switching Perspective

Rodimus is driving somewhere.

->_167P-LM: Where are you headed now?

->NyonRP17: Still don’t have your hint for me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an experimental chapter. I just wanted to try something new and see how it would work out. I have little to no experience with actual coding but this is how I understand how it's sort of formatted. Things are definitely about to go down though. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter<3


	5. Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus finds something long forgotten while looking for the sparklings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Sleep on It by Eivor the entire time while writing this so if you're looking for something to listen to while reading this... I recommend that, yeah

Thunderclash runs his servo down Rodimus’ cheek, smiling to himself as he watches Rodimus’ recharge, his face calm but still showing the wear of the stress he’s been feeling lately. The delicate protoform of his face has dulled at the corners of his mouth and optics, a clear sign he’s been straining himself too much lately. He’s at least been taking care of himself even if he’s needed a little bit of help here and there with remembering to refuel and rinse off. Even so, in Thunderclash’s optics Rodimus is as gorgeous as ever and so sweet like this, finally relaxed with so much going on. Thunderclash had thought they’d finally gotten past all the hardships and disasters they needed to face but he really should have known that their people’s past would catch up and bite them one day or another. The silent alarm he set to let him know that the day’s begun blinks on the bedside table making Thunderclash sigh, even so, he turns it off with a lazy stretch of his arm before returning to Rodimus’ side. Thunderclash presses a kiss on Rodimus’ forehelm then his cheek then his lips and as he pulls away, a hand catches him by the cheek and pulls him back down to meet Rodimus’ lips again. Rodimus kisses him slowly and sweetly, just the gentle glide of their lips.

Rodimus pushes up against Thunderclash and Thunderclash leans up, getting Rodimus to sit up as he deepens the kiss. Thunderclash huffs a laugh as Rodimus tries as best as he can to pull him back down onto the berth but Thunderclash resists knowing very well the busy day they have in front of them. That doesn’t mean he can’t take a few moments more to kiss his wonderful conjunx, his hands gliding down Rodimus’ sides to grab his hips and pull him into Thunderclash’s lap. Rodimus is warm with recharge and loose in Thunderclash’s arms as Thunderclash pulls him in close, breaking away from the kiss to press his face against Rodimus’ neck. As Thunderclash just takes a moment to feel Rodimus’ comforting weight, Rodimus snakes his arms around Thunderclash’s neck. They just sit there like for a moment in the still, early morning as the sun begins to break through the windows of the glass doors looking out on the balcony.

“We need to get ready,” Thunderclash murmurs against Rodimus’ neck cables, his words tickling Rodimus’ intake.

“Hm, I don’t see you moving,” Rodimus counters, his hold on his conjunx becoming ever so slightly tighter.

Thunderclash laughs and pulls away from Rodimus who protests softly, not willing to part from the warmth of his conjunx.

With a twinkle in his optics, Thunderclash whispers, “We really do need to get ready for the day, Roddy.”

Rodimus groans and sighs, sliding inelegantly off Thunderclash he mutters, “Yeah, okay. It’s not going to be morning forever after all.”

Thunderclash frowns as he watches Rodimus go to the washracks and turn on the water then he gets off the berth himself. It usually took a lot more to get Rodimus out of the berth, from time to time even needing a bit of bribing from Thunderclash whether that was more kisses or sweets. Rodimus had been acting odd even before the incident at the Basilica: nervous, twitchy, and incredibly anxious. Thunderclash had wanted to wait for Rodimus to be ready to share whatever was on his mind but after he came back after an evening with Lazercore looking more upset than his normal upbeat self after spending time with his favorite little kin, Thunderclash decided that maybe it was time to broach the subject.

Wandering to the washracks, Thunderclash leans against the threshold and watches Rodimus as the hot solvent rolls over his red and gold plating, making it shine as soap suds glide slowly down his frame. Thunderclash shakes his head, getting his mind back on task and knocks on the doorframe to let Rodimus know he’s there. Rodimus turns around and gives him a stunning grin letting Thunderclash know he knew he was watching.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare or are you going to join me?” Rodimus challenges with a tilt of his helm, letting the solvent pour over his neck cables as steam float off his frame.

Thunderclash chuckles softly and shakes his head, “I shouldn’t because we both know what will happen if I do and you’ll be late.”

“Then you should definitely get in here,” Rodimus voice turns low and his optics dim, setting Thunderclash’s spark ablaze.

Coughing suddenly, Thunderclash shakes his head with a sigh, “No, Rodimus I need to talk to you about something important.”

Rodimus quickly rinses himself the rest of the way off and turns off the stream before grabbing a towel and walking back into the berth room.

“What do you want to talk about?” Rodimus asks once Thunderclash rejoins him as he dries off.

“You haven’t been feeling well lately, that much is obvious,” Thunderclash starts, gently tugging the towel from Rodimus’ grasp and begins drying Rodimus’ plating for him, “Is there any way you can tell me what’s going on?”

Thunderclash doesn’t meet Rodimus’ optics as he runs the soft cloth over Rodimus’ plating, catching droplets until he’s dry and glistening as Rodimus remains silent. His hand smoothes over Rodimus’ chest and up to his neck cables and that’s when he meets Rodimus’ optics once more, stilling at the barely contained emotion therein.

“Rodimus?” Thunderclash calls out softly.

“I’m scared,” Rodimus whispers.

Thunderclash drops the towel in favor of cupping Rodimus’ face and Rodimus reaches up to cover Thunderclash’s servos with his own.

“Of another attack? Like the Basilica?” Thunderclash guesses the first thing that comes to mind and continues when Rodimus nods, “Is it because you can’t remember who’s behind this? Rodimus… Getting shocked like that can do a lot to someone’s-”

“It’s not that,” Rodimus cuts him off sharply, his voice breaking and his shoulders begin to shake as he slowly picks his words very carefully, “He… is playing… with me.”

Thunderclash’s optics go wide and he pulls Rodimus close to himself, resting his chin on top of Rodimus’ helm.

“He… hints where… the attacks… will happen… and then he… does it,” Rodimus chokes out into Thunderclash’s chest.

Thunderclash’s mind goes into overdrive trying to puzzle out why someone would do this but comes up empty.

“What’s the hint?” he asks instead.

“It’s...‘All Cybertronians must be here once’, that’s what he said,” Rodimus murmurs, obviously afraid of his every word.

Thunderclash repeats the hint under his breath then looks down at Rodimus to ask, “Wouldn’t that be Cybertron?”

Rodimus shakes his head, “That wouldn’t account for all cold-constructed or any MTOs.”

Thunderclash hums and lets Rodimus pull away to look up at him.

“I appreciate the help but I think it’s better if I do it,” Rodimus sounds so tired and worn it breaks Thunderclash’s spark, “I don’t want anyone to get hurt by interfering too much with… whatever this is he’s doing.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t tell me who it is or you’ll be electrocuted again, is that right?” Thunderclash takes Rodimus’ hands in his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“Right on the money,” Rodimus nods, his optics turning downcast, “I’ve found out I can say small details but I’m still not completely sure of how much I can share. I know if I try to say his name that happens but other than that… Well, I don’t want to find out.”

Thunderclash sighs and shuts his optics for a moment, “A lot has been put on top of you. I wish I could be more helpful to you but I don’t know how. I’ll think about this hint as well and try to help you come up with some possible answers.”

Rodimus smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his optics, “Thank you, I wish I could tell you more. Shockwave is working on something but…”

“But?”

“But he has a lot he’s worried about and I don’t think he’s exactly at the top of his game…”

Thunderclash nods, understanding exactly what Rodimus is referring to, “Yeah… I hope he comes to his senses and finally just lets himself frag Prowl’s processor out on the daily instead of whatever self-sacrificial stunt he’s pulling.”

Rodimus blinks up at Thunderclash, not quite sure how to respond.

“What?” Thunderclash says a little defensively, “I have optics.”

That gets a laugh out of Rodimus and with it, they both feel a little better.

“Alright, now we both really need to get to work,” Thunderclash reluctantly relinquishes his grip from Rodimus and Rodimus gives him a half shrug.

“If you say so,” Rodimus drawls.

“I wish we could just spend the day here,” Thunderclash says and brings Rodimus’ servo to his lips to press a lingering kiss on the back of it.

“Me too.”

* * *

Subject: Thunderclash  
Threat Level: UNKNOWN  
Relation: Conjunx  
Occupation: Transportation Administrator and Public Safety  
Other Information: [Deleted]

Thunderclash is going to help Rodimus. He must be observed.

* * *

Rodimus stretches his arms up and grumbles as he recalls all the paperwork he just finished that took twice as long as it normally would have with his thoughts constantly interrupted by Unicron’s hint. What was he supposed to make of it? Everyone who’s Cybertronian hasn’t even necessarily been on Cybertron with the MTOs who had been made in and died in war, many never even getting so much as a name. If Unicron was unaware of that and really did mean Cybertron then they’re really in trouble. Unicron has proven powerful and willing to commit to his destruction so it’s possible that he got fed up with the game and decided to destroy Cybertron. If that’s true then Rodimus isn’t sure Unicron will play fair and really hold fire if he guesses correctly. What was with the three guesses anyway? It doesn’t make sense to him why Unicron would throw in something like that, like he almost wants Rodimus to be able to guess it which contradicts the theory that Unicron is fed up. It could be any number of things but he has so little information that he can’t even begin to pretend to know Unicron’s mind let alone his motivations. Who’s Rodimus kidding? This is Unicron, god of chaos and destruction. He doesn’t need motivation and is probably doing all of this on a whim, bored with spending too much time wherever he is. Rodimus doesn’t even know where that is exactly.

Rodimus grits his denta and shuts his optics as he walks through the halls, his processor going through the same circles it had been while he’d been working. Without seeing where he’s going and mind miles away, he bumps into someone and stumbles only to be caught by taloned hands that grip him a bit too roughly, the sharp metal biting into his plating. Rodimus looks to find Starscream and he’s just about to apologize when he sees how frantic Starscream looks, sending a thrill of worry and fear through Rodimus. He holds Starscream’s shoulders, his optics flickering as he searches Starscream’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Rodimus’ grip tightens.

Starscream shakes his head, his hold still tight on Rodimus, “They’re missing, the sparklings are missing. We can’t find them anywhere.”

Rodimus feels his spark stutter and pulls away enough to motion for Starscream to lead the way. They speed into a room where Wheeljack, Soundwave, Cosmos, and Prowl are already, looking as concerned as Rodimus feels. Prowl is on comms, talking to several guards that are undoubtedly scoring all of Cybertron for the missing sparklings, sounding as serious as he did during a battle. Soundwave and Cosmos are scouring security footage together in deathly silence but Rodimus knows they’re probably communicating rapidly via private comms. Wheeljack breaks away from the display he was looking at long enough to embrace Starscream and comfort him, looking the most serious Rodimus has ever seen him. Looking at the display Wheeljack had been working at, Rodimus can see he had been trying to pick up the signal from Lazercore’s tracker bracelet. The bracelet had been a very necessary gift from Wheeljack after they discovered that Lazercore likes to wander and wouldn’t keep to the housing block for long. Not being able to pick up on the signal and for all four sparklings to be missing…

“Do we know where they disappeared?” Rodimus asks, ignoring everything in favor of this, feelings his systems prime.

Soundwave passes off a datapad to him without looking and flatly puts, “They disappeared through the vents in the housing block.”

Rodimus quickly looks through the footage speed up and watch as the sparklings duck into the ventilation.

“Do we have the build plans for the housing block?” Rodimus sets the datapad aside only for Prowl to hand him a new one.

“This is it but it likely won’t help much,” Prowl grouches, “The housing block is refurbished Golden Age structures and we only have bits and pieces of the plans for those, at least above ground. However, the vent system is connected to the old underground trade tunnels that are pre-Golden Age. Those span the entire planet.”

Rodimus pockets the datapad and sighs, “So they could be anywhere?”

“Exactly,” Prowl grumbles and rubs his optics drawing attention to how ragged he really is and Rodimus is pretty sure that it isn’t just because the sparklings are missing, “We have som infrared maps of the area but so far they haven’t been much help.”

Nodding along, Rodimus takes in what he’s saying and compares the mapping on the display Prowl brings up with what he knows of the area, already forming potential points of access.

“I’ll help search for them,” Rodimus declares, syncing his location with the program Wheeljack’s running, “I’ll comm you if I find anything.”

With a curt nod, Prowl turns back to his station and continues divvying out orders. Rodimus turns to give the others some comfort but upon seeing them all adamantly at work he decides against it and heads out to conduct his own search. Knowing that there’s no way he could fit in the vents, he tries to approximate its entry point into the tunnels and scopes around the outside of the housing block. The metal walls that make up the major structure bulges out in some places in rectangular shapes that likely contain power boxes and, hopefully, ventilation. According to Prowl’s record of the situation, teams entered well-known access points to the tunnels to try and converge at this point but to no avail. Any direct access has yet to be found and they were beginning to doubt that any of the tunnels lead to the same entry point that the sparklings found.

Rodimus scouts out the area around it, making note of every vent out he sees and back access. Out of the corner of his optics, he sees a flash of purple on one wall and feels a prickle of worry but upon looking at it he sees that it’s graffiti of a name of a band that’s been gaining popularity. He sighs in relief and chuckles at himself; never in a billion years did he think he’d be relieved to see graffiti but in its own way it’s a sign that things are settling into a comfortable familiarity however slowly. Rodimus shakes off his moment and continues searching the area but not having much luck. Eventually, he climbs up to the top of the housing unit and surveys the area, hoping that a new vantage point will give him some new insight, some new path he can follow. Finding nothing promising, not even so much as a grate he could potentially break through in sight, he sits down on the lip of the building. There are several ways a little sparkling could get into the tunnels but that didn’t mean that they’d be able to get back out the same way necessarily which could mean a different path altogether. They really could be anywhere with how the tunnels ran and very lost… and scared.

->_167P-LM: You’re looking for the sparklings

The sudden message pinging into Rodimus’ hud startles him and he falls backward onto the roof, reading the words over.

->NyonRP17: Yeah  
->NyonRP17: What about it?

There’s a pause but then another message pings through making it seem almost hesitant which is strange for someone like Unicron and Rodimus immediately shakes off the notion as ridiculous.

->_167P-LM: I know where they are

Fear shoots through Rodimus, making him sit up but stills as there was nothing he could do physically.

->NyonRP17: Did you take them?

->_167P-LM: No  
->_167P-LM: Why would I want a bunch of sparklings?

Despite it being Unicron, Rodimus relaxes because it made sense after all.

->NyonRP17: Right I forgot  
->NyonRP17: You hate sparklings

->_167P-LM: Do you want me to tell you how to get to them or not?

The response surprises Rodimus, feeling again like he’s reading to much into the situation while unable to help but feel that Unicron was avoiding that conversation.

->NyonRP17: I want you to tell me  
->NyonRP17: Why are you helping me?

He winces again at his impulsiveness but the curiosity is eating away at him and he just can’t help but ask.

->_167P-LM: This is distracting you from our game

Oh right. The game. Of course it’s about the game because really what else would this be about? Rodimus sighs and messages back.

->NyonRP17: Okay  
->NyonRP17: Then let’s do this quickly

->_167P-LM: Yes  
->_167P-LM: Hold on

Rodimus frowns and stands up, putting his hands on his hips, wondering what exactly it is that Unicron could be doing then he sees a seemingly flush wall slide free to reveal a staircase that leads into a dark abyss.

->_167P-LM: Do you see the opening?

->NyonRP17: Yes

->_167P-LM: Go down all the way to the bottom then wait for me to tell you where to go

->NyonRP17: Okay  
->NyonRP17: Gotcha

Rodimus carefully gets back down, or at least as carefully as he can in his haste to find the sparklings, stumbling a few times and bumping his knee painfully against a stray pipe. Eventually, he makes it to the staircase and stares into the darkness, suppressing a shiver. He turns on his lights and begins to descend, only mildly relieved when Unicron doesn’t close the wall behind him. As Rodimus descends, he recognizes more and more of the materials and the layout to be that of the same era as the site he’d been helping to excavate which tells him he’s at least headed in somewhat the right direction. How they hadn’t been able to detect this entrance was beyond him but he’s here now so that counted for something. Even if it was with the help of Unicron.

Once he reaches the bottom of the staircase, he looks around and finds it to indeed be the old trade tunnels with one very key twist: the heavy powerlines. Sure, the lights even of those times demanded a lot of power but for a closed-off space like this to have that sheer amount of connection points and reinforced powerlines is just too much. The air is still as expected and contains the sharp smell of chemical waste that lingers and cloys to the frame. The dull metal walls are mostly immaculate except for the inevitable grime that comes with all abandoned places making it feel entirely too eerie. A stream of contaminated solvent runs along the length of the tunnel, flowing lazily to whatever its final destination is.

->NyonRP17: Alright  
->NyonRP17: I’m at the bottom of the staircase

->_167P-LM: Take a right

Taking instructions from Unicron still feels a little weird but he doesn’t feel like he has a better shot than this, so he continues forward. His steps echo against the walls, making him curl on himself instinctually with the thought in the back of his mind telling him his location is being broadcast throughout the entire tunnel. Humming to himself to calm down, he looks around the tunnel only to find absolutely nothing else of interest and starts flexing his hands. He gets so distracted with trying to calm himself down, he almost smacks face-first into a heavy-duty shielded door that’s sealing off his side of the tunnel from the next. There’s a small keypad on the side of the door but as he tries to use it, he finds that it’s completely dead.

->NyonRP17: I’m at a door that I can’t get through

Unicron’s response is uncharacteristically quick.

->_167P-LM: Hold on

In a matter of seconds really, the keypad turns on and the door slides open, and Rodimus blinks against the sudden bright light pouring in through the entrance. He shuts off his lights and walks through to find a crossroad of sorts. As he looks around another message pings in.

->_167P-LM: It’s on the left

Rodimus walks forward and sure enough, another large door is open to a dimly lit room full of tall processing units with a large screen in the far back of the room displaying something he can’t quite make out at this distance. Turning his lights back on, Rodimus walks slowly through the room, turning to look down every aisle in search of the sparklings only to come up empty. At the end of the room, he stops in front of the display and scans the large screen curiously. His initial take is for it to be some kind of command center like the one Prowl had set up in the Basilica with various monitors set up that multiple people could observe at once while close enough to simply shout out discoveries. Except this place is like a ghost town, completely free of any sign that anyone has ever been there except for a single, pink datapad balanced precariously on the edge of a station.

->_167P-LM: Look to your right

The message breaks Rodimus out of his trance and he does look to his right and once he does so he finds another set of stairs peaking through an open doorway that descended even further.

->_167P-LM: I won’t be able to help you down there

That surprises Rodimus enough that he sends back a message/

->NyonRP17: Why?

There’s a long moment that Rodimus just stands there, waiting for an answer that’s long enough he returns his attention back to the display, wondering just what that place could be.

->_167P-LM: I don’t know

Shrugging off the unease that makes him feel, Rodimus nods even though he’s not completely sure Unicron can see him do that here.

->NyonRP17: Okay  
->NyonRP17: Then I guess I’ll be back later

Rodimus walks forward confidently but falters.

->_167P-LM: Don’t get lost

He restabilizes himself and ignores the weird message then walks through the door and descends.

* * *

Thunderclash finishes hashing out the latest evacuation plans requested by Prowl and slumps back in his chair. He’s been doing his best to do his part in keeping Prowl from stressing about other things so he could hopefully focus on what’s really stressing him but this is starting to get a little ridiculous. This is the third time in the past few days that Prowl had demanded a revision and Thunderclash could recognize this as Prowl trying to micromanage as a way to distract himself. As supportive as he wants to be, his patience is beginning to run low with the mech. Just this morning Strika had joked about locking Prowl and Shockwave in the same room until they figured it out or fragged out, probably both and now Thunderclash has half a mind to do so. He sighs at the thought, fantasizing about how much his workload would be cut if Prowl was even so much as a tiny bit less stressed. Not having worked with Prowl all that closely during the war, it took Ratchet telling him that this wasn’t normal for him and why to really get it and also back off. Thunderclash does feel guilty for the slag he gave Prowl initially when he thought that Prowl was just being unreasonable for the hell of it. He knew there was tension with Shockwave but he had no idea that it’d gotten this bad.

With a flick against his datapad, he sends off the plans and gets up to go get some fuel and stretch his legs. He wanders down through the halls to the mess hall where many mechs waved and greeted him, still treating him like a celebrity even as peacetime wore one. A sigh finds its way out of his vents as he dispenses some energon for himself, wondering when the war will be enough of a memory for him to be just a normal mech again. Then, he almost spills his fuel when someone taps him on the back to get his attention. Aileron is standing there with a nervous smile that makes it look more like she’s in pain than anything.

“Yes, Aileron? Do you need anything?” Thunderclash takes a sip of his energon, his griping low fuel warning finally dissipating.

“You’re needed,” is all shes says, her tone oozing regret.

Thunderclash looks between her and the fuel in his hand then sighs and nods, letting her lead him away but he does take his fuel with him. Together, they wind up in a room that’s far too full of people shouting over each other in a mess of words that are too jumbled together for him to follow. His optics catch the sight Optimus at the far end of the room sitting with his helm resting in his hands which is more than enough to unnerve Thunderclash. As more people see he’s entered the room, the conversation quiets down until it’s only Megatron speaking very loudly.

“How could we have never, in all of our years living here in peacetime, searched these tunnels more thoroughly?”

“You know as well as I do that we haven’t had the time or resources,” Starscream snaps, pulling Megatron from a bedraggled Prowl, “Don’t let your anger out on the rest of us just because you feel useless.”

Starscream’s expression shifts from angry to deeply worried and his voice breaks, “We all feel useless in this mess so just shut up already.”

Megatron falls silent and after a moment nods before joining Optimus, taking his hand in his own.

Thunderclash looks around the room frantically as he demands, “What’s happening?”

Optics glance at him wearily, all of them clearly withholding that information, reluctant to reveal whatever terrible thing has happened.

Eventually, Arcee huffs in frustration and puts a hand on Thunderclash’s shoulder, “Since no one else seems interested in telling you, Rodimus, along with the sparklings, are missing.”

Thunderclash drops his energon, the glass shattering on the floor and he feels his spark ache with dread.

* * *

Rodimus stops at the bottom of the stairs, daunted by the sheer expanse of the hall in front of him, breaking off at several points to presumably lead to even more hallways and curses when he sees even more stairs at the end of the hall. With a slow vent, he prepares himself for what lies ahead and pulls up a map grafting program on a datapad in his subspace. What would be even worse than the sparklings being lost down here would be for all of them to get lost down here. Even when he did find them if he couldn’t get them back out then what would be the point?

He begins his search, taking in the sterile, white walls of this facility complete with built-in cleaning units that are currently non-functioning. As Rodimus begins peaking into rooms to scan them and add them to the map he’s forming, he realizes that this was a scientific research facility. Rooms filled counters containing microscopes, clamps holding up vials, and various other pieces of equipment Rodimus doesn’t recognize line the halls. Occasionally there’s a room that stands out from the rest, like one that appears to be an observation room with a large glass dome in the center that has a small chair in the center. Another has a large screen that takes up an entire wall with a control panel in front of it both of which are without power. As he wanders through the halls and finds more and more rooms, he becomes increasingly uneasy. A creeping sense of fear on the verge of panic travels up his spinal strut as he finds how truly labyrinthine this place is. It seems to peak every time he passes the next staircase, his optics always drawing to it whenever he passes it until he delves deeper into the halls that go past it.

This floor alone is huge, he can only imagine what could lay below and can see how a sparkling could get easily lost down here, hell, he’d probably be lost if he wasn’t making a map. Now, with so much of the floor covered, he can see the beginnings of a pattern forming and is glad that it appears to at least be symmetrical in construction if winding and packed with rooms upon rooms. Worry overcomes him as he starts coming to the last corner which should match up with the other side after what feels like hours of searching and still no sign of the sparklings. Then, he hears a faint sound and heads toward it as fast as he can while still keeping his position consistent on the map until he comes upon Astronotron huddled with Percussive and Hexbolt in the middle of the hall.

“Kids!” Rodimus cries out with relief and rushes towards them to take them into his arms and hold them close.

Percussive sobs into Rodimus, clinging to him like their life depends on it and Hexbolt buries her face into him mutely. Astronotron looks up at him with worried optics. Rodimus looks around quickly only to find Lazercore nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Laze?” Rodimus asks, his relief quickly waning.

“She ran off that way,” Astro points down one hall, mumbling, “We fought after being lost for what felt like forever and she ran away to find her own way out because she was angry. I wanted to follow her but she’s really fast and I didn’t want to leave Hex and Percussive alone...”

His optics turn downward with guilt and his arms tighten around his siblings.

Rodimus pets the top of his helm and as much as he can, he reassures Astro, “You’re a good clustermate, Astro. You kept your siblings safe. We both know that Laze can be stubborn, there was likely no way you would’ve been able to convince her to stick around.”

Astro nods but he still doesn’t look totally convinced, still very worried about his friend.

Looking down, Rodimus takes a moment to consider his options then stands up.

“Come on, we can go find her together, okay?” Rodimus holds out his hand Astro takes it readily, “Everyone, hold each other’s hand so no one gets left behind.”

The three sparklings immediately cling to each other and nod. Rodimus smiles down at them and how cute they all are. Looking down the hall, he leads the sparklings towards where he hopes to find Lazecore.

* * *

“What do you mean by missing?” Thunderclash finally manages, “How did this happen?”

Wheeljack hands Thunderclash a datapad and starts explaining, “Hours ago, Lazecore and the others went into the ventilation of the housing block which leads to the old trade tunnels. We’ve been trying to find a way to get to where they got in but with no success. Rodimus offered to help with the search and when I noticed his location was beginning to become difficult to pick up near the housing block, I tried to contact him but the signal wouldn’t go through. It kept on blasting static back at me, even messages directly to his hud were being blocked. Then his location completely disappeared right around the same point Lazercore’s did.”

Thunderclash doesn’t say anything, staring blankly at the timeline of Rodimus’ location, feeling like the world is crashing down on him. What could possibly be happening?

* * *

Conclusion: Thunderclash is essential for success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot more planned for this chapter but that would have put me way over the general length I'm trying to make these chapters. I hate to leave it on a cliffhanger like this but I can say the next chapter shouldn't take too long. I'm a graduate now! So that's terrifying but this is one of the things keeping me sane right now so I definitely won't stop writing. I wish you all the best and I hope despite the everything you can find something that helps keep you sane! Love you all! Thanks for sticking around <3


	6. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus finds literal nightmare fuel.

Rodimus walks down the hall with his daisy chain of sparklings, ducking his head into rooms and down halls for any sign of Lazercore. He does his best to keep them calm but being in a place like this, a place so cold and desolate, it’d be hard on anyone and they’d been here for hours. The walls of this place almost seem to eat sound so their steps barely make it to their audials before disappearing into nothing, all trace of their presence here hidden while making it even harder to find Lazercore. In some parts of this bunker, the lights flicker sporadically while the rest is uncomfortably bright, white fluorescents filling the space with light so completely they all have barely a wisp of a shadow. Rodimus does his best not to mind it, keeping his focus on the map while constantly keeping one optic out for even a glimpse of a tiny black and green frame. Next to him, Astronotron reverts back to the soft beeps and hums of his family’s sparkling language to keep his siblings calm, chatting constantly with Hexbolt as Percussive remains resolutely mute. A piercing shriek disturbs the fragile calm and the sparklings all hide behind Rodimus, yelling in response. Fear shocks Rodimus’ systems as he instinctively moves to shield the sparklings.

“Lazercore!” he shouts in realization then kneels to address Astro, “Stay here and keep them safe, run if anything happens, ok?I’m going to help Laze.”

Astro nods and pulls Hex and Percussive in towards himself to shield them. Without another word, Rodimus runs down the hall to where the sound came from and, upon seeing a small, dark figure, he bursts into a full sprint, falling to his knees as he gets close. He skids a short distance to pull the sparkling into his frame and quickly stands up. Without any immediate danger in sight, he checks her over for injuries finding nothing and disturbed by how quiet she’s being, Rodimus looks to her face to find struck in shock, her optics locked on something in the room. He follows her line of sight and upon seeing what lays in the room, he pulls her to himself, hiding her face into his chest as he looks on in horror. Quietly, Lazercore begins to sob into his plating and he holds her even tighter.

In the room, laid out in neat rows, are sparklings, younglings with their chest plates open and their lifeless optics staring out from their grayed plating in slack expressions. It looks as though their very spark chambers were ripped from them, the stain of old, dried energon still lingering in trails down their tiny frames. He counts thirty of them but those are just the ones in the light, the room goes back further, far too deep and shrouded in darkness but he can see the faint outline of more. There are too many. Rodimus looks from one to the next, his optics taking them in with horror and sparking optics, their features searing into his mind as though he’s afraid that they’ll be forgotten otherwise. Confused and feeling sick, he pushes the button that shuts the door, blocking off the horrific sight. Shakily, he moves away from the room, struck silent by what he just saw, and makes his way slowly back down the hall to the others, schooling his features so he doesn’t send them into a panic. When the sparklings see him with Lazercore in his arms, they come running and tackle his legs, holding on tight to him.

“Come on,” he whispers, “Let’s go home.”

They walk through the labyrinth together, following Rodimus’ map for what feels like an hour to the staircase that leads them back up into the dark room that’s still showing footage of that room. All the way there, Astro and the others throw worried looks up at Lazercore who doesn’t so much as shift in Rodimus’ arms but they don’t say anything, likely picking up on how horrified she really is. As soon as they’re back in the room, a message pings in.

->_167P-LM: You found them

Rodimus doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t know if he will answer anytime soon with the image of those dead sparklings burning behind his optics. Unicron is the last thing he wants to deal with right now and he still needs to get the sparklings back to the surface, back to their families. He can’t collapse now, no matter how much he may wish to.

->NyonRP17: I did

That seems to be enough to satisfy Unicron as he doesn’t message Rodimus again as he leads the sparklings to the stairs. Quietly, as they walk through the tunnels, Astro tugs on his hand and points to the duct they were able to enter the tunnels through. Rodimus looks around the access point and sees that it’s more or less completely blocked off by walls or shielded doors and other than the point he entered through, he couldn’t see any other way in. It would’ve likely taken them hours or days more to find this place on their own but, by some strange kind of providence, thanks to Unicron he was able to find them. They all squint against the light as they walk through the access point, even though the sun is hanging rather low now and come upon the sight of their various family members crowded around the large back alley. Starscream stops arguing with Shockwave when he sees Rodimus walk out with Lazercore, immediately rushing to him to his sparkling into his arms and shower her with kisses. When finally in the arms of her Curae, she breaks out of her silence, bursting into tears as she wraps her little arms around Starscream.

“What’s all of this?” Rodimus can’t help but ask, looking around at everyone gathered.

Soundwave and Cosmos push past through the crowd easily, people moving out of the way as quickly as they can to give them a path to their sparklings who run up to their Curaes upon seeing them.

“When your location disappeared, we traced back the last known location to near this area and found this staircase,” Starscream explains, running his hand down Lazercore’s back to soothe her, “I’ve been trying to just get teams to go down and search after you but Shockwave and many others argued that we couldn’t just go down there without a plan and appropriate equipment. Apparently any and all signal is lost down there due to leaded walls and all manner of other things.”

“Oh,” is all Rodimus can say.

“Did something happen down there?” Starscream asks him, his relief quickly fading as Lazercore continues to sob.

Rodimus looks to Lazercore clinging to her Curae, his optics dimming, “She saw something rather terrifying, something she shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?” Starscream tightens his hold on her just that much more.

“Down there,” Rodimus gestures behind him, “is an old scientific research facility. I don’t know what they were researching but it couldn’t have been anything good.”

Starscream nods but is momentarily distracted as Wheeljack comes up and wraps his arms around his sparkling and conjunx, pressing his helm against Lazercore’s in a silent display of affection. She pushes up to look at him, rubbing at her optics beneath her visor as they continue to fritz.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, reaching out to Wheeljack and he eagerly takes his sparkling into his arms, “I’m sorry. Am I in trouble?”

Starscream sighs and continues to rub Lazercore’s back, “I think you’ve been through enough for one day, little love. Let’s go home and get you some fuel, hm?”

She nods against Wheeljack’s chest and shuts her optics, looking more than ready to fall into recharge.

“Thank you for finding her,” Wheeljack says as they start walking away and Starscream nods in agreement.

“Of course,” Rodimus tries to smile at them but he knows that it looks pained.

Before he can think to do anything else, powerful arms pull him into a tight hug and he sinks into the familiarity, eagerly soaking in the comfort.

“Rodimus,” Optimus gasps, distress weighing his voice down heavily, “Thank goodness you’re alright.”

“It’s good to be out of there,” Rodimus mumbles, “It’s horrible down there.”

“Rodimus,” Thunderclash’s voice calls to him from one side and he pulls away from Optimus to watch Thunderclash walk up to him.

Optimus lets him go so he can embrace Thunderclash, pulling Thunderclash down by his shoulders so he can kiss his conjunx, their lips meet roughly and their movements are sloppy but that doesn’t matter. They’re both too relieved to see the other to care. Pulling away, Thunderclash takes Rodimus’ face in one hand and presses a kiss to his forehelm.

“I was worried,” Thunderclash whispers.

“I know,” Rodimus sinks against Thunderclash’s chest, “I’m sorry.”

Prowl walks up to both of them and they separate somewhat so he can address Rodimus.

“Starscream says you found something rather significant,” Prowl crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one pede, business-like as ever.

Rodimus suppresses a sigh and pulls out the datapad he mapped out the facility on, handing it to Prowl.

“I found the sparklings on the second-most level of an underground research facility,” Rodimus reports as Prowl looks over the map, “There appeared to be more beneath that level but how far down it goes, I don’t know.”

Prowl nods and looks back up from the datapad, “What did Lazercore see? She doesn’t want to say a word of it and I don’t want to push her.”

Rodimus swallows and forcefully relaxes his jaw, faltering for a moment before finally saying, “Dead sparklings, a lot of them and brutally mutilated at that.”

Thunderclash’s hands tighten on Rodimus, getting him to look up to see Thunderclash’s questioning optics and shakes his head.

“I see,” Prowl states it calmly but Rodimus, after millennia of knowing him, can see the tense lines at the corners of his optics that show he’s much more concerned than he’s letting on, “Thank you, I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening and I’ll let you know if I find anything of note. I’m glad your safe.”

Rodimus nods, bidding Prowl farewell and more or less collapses into Thunderclash, feeling suddenly very tired.

“I think we should take the evening off and just go home,” Thunderclash says as he rubs at the base of Rodimus’ spoiler.

Rodimus lets out a vent and nods, finding recharge very appealing right now.

* * *

As Luna 2 drifts lazily through the sky, its light shining in through the balcony doors, Rodimus shuts his optics and falls into recharge, wrapped in Thunderclash’s arms. His optics open and he’s standing in the house he and Drift went to, the one at the excavation site, only, it’s not worn with age or covered in dust. It’s a little messy with things of everyday life strewn over chairs and the counter of the small kitchen but it’s otherwise clean and cozy. Thunderclash walks into the living room to him with a blue sparkling in his arms who reaches out eagerly to Rodimus, giggling and speaking excitedly but Rodimus can’t understand the words. He happily takes the sparkling in his arms and kisses the top of his helm, bouncing the sparkling, his sparkling playfully in his arms. Thunderclash kisses his cheek, pulling him into a half hug as they both look adoringly down at their sparkling. Rodimus knows this is his sparkling, just by holding him he can feel how his spark matches his own and the unusual heat of his frame that he got from Rodimus but his smile is completely like Thunderclash’s. Holding him fills Rodimus’ spark with warmth like nothing he’s felt before.

Then it all shatters as a loud pounding sounds at the door. He shares a look with Thunderclash, horror filling their optics but he’s not quite sure why he’s filled with so much panic. However, Rodimus doesn’t argue when Thunderclash ushers him to go to another room, their room, and hide their sparkling in a padded compartment that has spare energon and toys, hushing his sparkling and telling him he has to be quiet, he has to be safe. Quickly hiding the compartment behind covers, Rodimus stands back up and goes back to the living room only to find Thunderclash being detained by mechs that he can’t see the faces of, all painted a dark gray with a yellow insignia bordered in black. Before he can so much as ask what’s going on, two guards are on him, restraining him as two more go down the hall to their sparkling’s room only to come up empty. When the leader asks Thunderclash where their sparkling is, he tells them their sparkling is visiting family. Unsatisfied with this answer, the leader has the guards search the house, tipping furniture over and destroying things as they go all throughout the house. He does his best not to react as they go into their room, his spark quickening with every second only to drop as he hears the voice of his sparkling cry out in fear.

They bring him into the living room, kicking and screaming as he tries to break free from their grasp, reaching out to him and Thunderclash futilely as they pull him from their home. Rodimus struggles against the mechs holding him back calling for his sparkling, yelling in defiance along with Thunderclash and watching helplessly as his sparkling is loaded into a dark, armored vehicle. The leader of the band throws a datachip to his feet as he walks out the door and orders the guards to release them as the vehicle begins to drive away. They all leave the house, the door clicking shut resolutely behind them. Rodimus falls to his knees once they’re gone, looking down to the datachip in front of him that undoubtedly contains the shanix that was meant to repay them for their sparkling, his sparkling. He lifts it up with a shaking servo, sobbing at all that’s left where his sparkling is supposed to be.

Quietly, he sobs, “Rubble.”

Rodimus’ optics open and he’s venting hard as he scrabbles for purchase, grabbing Thunderclash blindly as he sobs. Thunderclash wakes up groggy at first but becomes much more awake when he finds Rodimus crying and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Rodimus, it’s alright, I’m here,” Thunderclash mumbles, “You’re safe.”

“I had a nightmare,” Rodimus whispers through his sobs, “I had a nightmare we lost our sparkling…”

Thunderclash kisses his cheek and presses their forehelms together, “When we do get a sparkling, it’ll be after all of this is over, when the danger has finally passed and when that time comes our sparkling will have an army around them to keep them safe. We won’t let them come to harm. I promise you, they’ll be safe.”

Rodimus shakes in Thunderclash’s arms but nods, knowing Thunderclash means every word but he can’t keep the face of the sparkling in his dreams from appearing in his mind. It’s so clear, it feels like a memory. He could see detail, the shape of his helm, his rounded optics, the color of his plating, his little nose, everything.

Venting in and out slowly to calm himself, he pulls away sluggishly, “I want to go for a drive. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep after that, not without exhausting myself.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Thunderclash offers but Rodimus shakes his head.

“I don’t want to keep you up.”

Thunderclash takes his hand and rubs the back of it, “Okay, call me if you change your mind.”

Rodimus nods and leaves their suite, taking the slow elevator ride down to the ground floor.

* * *

The night air is cool against his plating as he drives aimlessly down the roads away from New Nyon, kicking up dust from the desert surrounding the city. Rodimus lets his mind drift away, his thoughts filled with nothing but the stars above and the way the road feels beneath his wheels. Before he fully realizes where he’s going, he’s back in the capital like he’s being drawn there, pulled by some unseen force. A connection at the back of his mind that was just floating on the edge of his consciousness comes to the forefront of his thoughts and he stops cold. Turning down a familiar road, he drives fast towards the housing block and jumps into his transformation sequence before walking to the staircase beneath the pale moonlight. It seems so much more sinister now at night, looking like the maw of a creature that wants to swallow him whole.

->_167P-LM: Why are you back?

The message is jarring and he recoils from the staircase.

->NyonRP17: I have to see something

There’s a pause and he’s alone in the frigid night air, staring at the stairs before him.

->_167P-LM: You should be recharging or focused on our game  
->_167P-LM: Not here

Rodimus laughs humorlessly, knowing full well how insane he’s being right now but he can’t help the impulse driving him forward no matter how frightened he may be.

->NyonRP17: Yeah  
->NyonRP17: Maybe

He goes down the stairs with his lights on, following the same path he had earlier the same day, or is it the next day already? Time has been passing for Rodimus in a kind of blur, one day bleeding into the next as more and more worries are laid atop him, Unicron being the foremost in his mind at all times. Even so, he finds his way to the entrance to the labyrinth, pulling up the copy of the map he made with a very significant room marked on it and he descends. Walking back into the halls is like walking back into day, the lights are so bright, no other time really exists here so anyone working here wouldn’t know what time it really was without an accurate chronometer. Rodimus walks directly to his destination with a passing glance at the staircase that descends further into the labs that make him shudder. When the door is in sight, he stops, hesitant to continue, and questioning himself if he really wants to look, really wants to make sure.

Rodimus walks forward and stops again in front of the door, looking up and down at its unassuming presence noting the label “R42” on one side opposite of the panel. With a deep vent, he presses the button on the panel and follows the door with his optics then drags his line of sight onto the sparklings inside, still horrifying and cold in their final resting place. He walks in, checking the door behind him in a moment of panic only relaxing when he sees another panel on this side and noting that the door isn’t closing. Pulling his attention back to the sparklings, he scans them with his optics, trailing along the front most row until he looks at the one on the far right that had been obscured by the wall before when he had first seen this room. Rodimus walks towards them and kneels down in front of the sparkling and reaches out only to pull back as a display flickers to life, glitching from disuse and clearly needing maintenance. The entire row lights up with portraits of the sparklings while they all had been alive, their information all written in the same old script. If he had been in doubt before that certainly had been assuaged. Staring at him from the glitching display is the face of the sparkling from his dreams, a little bit older but unmistakably the same.

Agony overcomes him as his optics slide back to the empty frame in front of him and in spite of himself, he reaches out and carefully picks up the small form. He sobs as he looks over the slack expression on the sparkling’s face, on Rubble’s face and brings the frame close to his chest. It feels the same as it had in his dream only now it’s void of warmth, the metal dead and cool to the touch as it lays slack in Rodimus’ arms.

In the quiet of this mausoleum, he whispers, “Primus, protect our little light.”

* * *

Rodimus stumbles out back into the moonlight, feeling more than exhausted and ready to go back to his warm berth to be held by Thunderclash in hopes of forgetting all of this. In his distracted state, he almost knocks into an awaiting figure standing as still as a statue at the entrance. He jumps back in surprise and blinks as he recognizes the form in front of him to be the Mistress of Flame.

“Rodimus,” she says, the sound of her voice standing alone in the quiet of the night, “Come with me.”

“What?” Rodimus straightens up, “Why? Where?”

“Vector Sigma wishes to speak with you,” she says calmly and turns around to walk out of the large back alley.

More than a little confused, he runs up to catch up with her until they reach the road expecting her to transform or have some other form of transportation. Neither of these things happens, she just continues across the road to another smaller alleyway that she disappears into. A little unsettled, Rodimus follows slowly, ducking into the dark alleyway with his optics looking in every direction he can as he comes upon an opening that leads out onto a secluded square. The Mistress of Flame is waiting there for him on a raised, circular platform and gestures for him to join her. When he’s on the platform, she presses some controls on a nearby console and the platform glows with a light blue light that blocks out his sight as it brightens in a flash, leaving him stunned and blinking the stars from his optics. As he regains his sight, he looks around to see they’re now underground somewhere and the Mistress of Flame is already walking off, not looking to see if Rodimus is following her. They reach the chamber where Vector Sigma waits, glowing the same faint gold that he remembers from the last time he saw her with the pipes around her still dark. He looks to the Mistress of Flame but she just looks expectantly at him with her servos folded together neatly.

Looking back to Vector Sigma, he tosses his servos up cluelessly, “Well, I’m here. What do you need?”

A voice like bells and wind fills his mind making him reel back, “Rodimus, welcome.”

“Whoa,” he huffs an incredulous laugh, “I didn’t know you could actually talk.”

“To some,” she says, “To those who will listen.”

“So,” he clears his intake, “What do you need to talk to me about?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a compartment springs forward with a hiss of air pressure being released and several components transform away from it, opening it up to him. When he looks inside, Rodimus sees a strange device that’s mostly rectangular but has many parts that fit snuggly together that look as though they could articulate and shift.

“Uh,” he mutters as he tilts his head this way and that as he looks at it, “What am I supposed to do with this.”

“Place it inside your chest,” Vector Sigma’s voice rings out.

He looks dubiously up at her then back down at the strange thing with a sigh, he supposes there couldn’t be any harm in it if it’s from Vector Sigma and he’s genuinely too tired to argue. So, he picks it up carefully in both of his hands then looks over at the Mistress of Flame with an arched brow.

“Do you mind?”

She rolls her optics and turns around, covering her optics with her servos for good measure. Even so, he still turns his back to her, glancing over his shoulder once before finally opening up his chest plates to reveal his spark and aligns the device around that area. He’s surprised to find that it fits in easily, sliding into gaps in his chest around his spark past where the matrix would one day rest as though it’s always meant to go there. When it’s fully in his chest, some of his inner components move and fix it into place with a resounding click and he looks at his open chest for a moment before closing it back up.

Turning back to Vector Sigma he asks, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Her words carry in the air as serene as they have been, “Save Unicron.”

Rodimus gapes at her, outraged, “Save U-?!”

He chokes off his words as the beginnings of the same shock he felt before begin to build in his systems but he thankfully cut himself off before it can peak.

“Are you serious?” he asks, his words sounding raspy now from the shock.

There isn’t a response and he becomes overwhelmingly enraged, disbelieving that this would be the grand mission Vector Sigma would have for him. Now he regrets putting whatever that was in his chest if it was meant to save Unicron of all people.

The Mistress of Flame steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure Vector Sigma knows what is best for her people. If Unicron must be saved then so it should be done.”

He pushes her off of him and steps well away from her, “He doesn’t need saving! He has the power to destroy cities! The power to kill hundreds or thousands of people at a time! The people of Cybertron are the ones that need saving.”

A cold silence follows his words as his hot vents cloud the cold air in front of him with steam.

Then, Vector Sigma speaks again, “To save Cybertron and his people you must save Unicron. Please, Rodimus. You are the only one who can.”

“Forget it!” he snaps and marches over to the elevator he knows is there only to be stopped by the Mistress of Flame. “What?” he hisses at her, “Whatever it is, whatever argument you have, I don’t want to here. I’m going to do whatever I can to stop him and there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”

She shakes her head and responds calmly, “I’m not going to say anything more on that. I only mean to tell you I can transport you closer to your home if you will allow me.”

He relaxes at that, considering the idea of just being petty and driving himself home but he’s so tired and just wants to be home already. Rodimus nods, accepting her offer. She leads him back to the platform and he shuffles onto it. With a few quick presses on the console, the same light as before appears and he’s whisked away to another identical platform behind buildings he recognizes in New Nyon. Tightening his plating against the cold, he walks through the alleys until he reaches the grand building where his home awaits him at the very top.

* * *

The elevator ride is too slow and he feels like he’s already falling into recharge as he steps off onto his floor, stumbling his way to the door and fumbling with the access panel until the door slides open, granting him entry. He makes his way to the berth, only half seeing the room around him and lands face-first into his berth, swinging his legs up onto it lazily. Sighing with relief, he cuddles into the soft pillow Thunderclash had gotten him on a whim and he has never been so grateful for it. Speaking of, strong arms come around him and tug him across the berth until his helm is pressed against a large expanse of warm metal that rumbles with the powerful engine beneath it. Shifting his position somewhat, Rodimus looks up to see Thunderclash looking at him fully awake.

“Did I wake you up?” Rodimus asks softly.

“No,” Thunderclash studies Rodimus, his expression contemplative but otherwise unreadable, “I couldn’t recharge. It’s hard to without you next to me and, after today, it was especially hard. I wasn’t going to be able to rest until I saw you were safe.”

“Why didn’t you message me then?” Rodimus whispers as his optics begin to dim with his exhaustion.

“You needed time to think,” Thunderclash half shrugs, “I could sacrifice a few hours of recharge for that.”

Rodimus smiles despite himself, “You’re too sweet, you know that? I love you so much.”

Thunderclash smiles sleepily, “I love you too. Oh, uh, where did you go if you don’t mind me asking?”

Feeling suddenly guilty, Rodimus hides his face in Thundeclash’s chest, “Promise not to get upset?”

“I’ll try,” Thunderclash answers.

Rodimus wriggles close to Thunderclash so he can wrap one arm around his waist, “I went back to the facility.”

Thunderclash tenses and Rodimus can hear his engine stutter as he whispers, “Why?”

“I had to know, I had to check,” Rodimus’s voice quivers at the memory of seeing Rubble there, cold and gray.

“What did you have to check?”

“He was there, Thunders,” Rodimus whispers, his sobs returning despite his tired state, “The sparkling from my dream. Our sparkling was there among the rest. Dead.”

“Rodimus,” Thunderclash sighs, “That place is messing with your processor. You probably saw the sparkling earlier and it got into your head so you had a nightmare where he was our sparkling. Your processor is torturing you with ‘what if’s as it’s trying to make sense of a terrible event.”

Rodimus shakes his head vigorously, “No, I didn’t see him before. He was out of sight when I was there the first time. I could see him so clearly in my dream, every detail. It was as clear as I see you now. I saw every detail of him and it got stuck in my head and I knew then what happened to him.”

“That was a long time ago, Roddy,” Thunderclash argues but he doesn’t sound as confident as he had before, “It was before either of us were even forged. It was before the Golden Age. There’s no way he could be our sparkling.”

“Then why did I dream about him? Why does it hurt so much to see specifically him that way? Why do I know things I’m not supposed to know?” Rodimus sobs into Thunderclash’s chest, “I knew what the shrine said in the house without reading it. I knew what the favorite toy of the sparkling who lived there was without thinking. I dreamt about that same house where he was taken away and saw how it happened. I don’t understand.”

“Maybe…” Thunderclash sighs again, just as lost as Rodimus, “I don’t know, Roddy. You should recharge now though. We have another long day tomorrow.”

Rodimus hugs Thunderclash tighter, nodding and letting himself begin to drift into recharge.

As he’s on the verge of falling completely into a dreamless recharge, he hears Thunderclash softly say, “There’s just no way Rubble could have been our sparkling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you it'd be fast! Looks like Rodimus and Thunderclash got their sparkling~ I kid. I kid. I'm not that evil. Or am I? Guess you're just going to have to read and find out in the upcoming chapters... <3


	7. At Lovers' Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thunderclash plot begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a long time since I updated. I have a job now that's a 45 min commute. So, at least to make up for some of that here's a slightly longer than normal chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Thunderclash walks through the ruins of the old city, his optics scanning the area around him and he’s struck, not for the first time, with the feeling of being outside of time as he imagines for a moment what it would have been like for those mechs who lived here so long ago. This place is almost like a snapshot with the restoration efforts being put into place in this area so that the buildings are once again close to the vibrant colors they had been and the bronze fixtures on their roofs shine in the beams of light that break through from the crevice above. It feels restored but off as Thunderclash can’t shake the feeling of how thoroughly… dead it feels as he stands there in the silence among the buildings without the mess of everyday life that’s never quite cleaned up or the voices of people talking in the distance or the clatter of footsteps of passersby. Even with everything so pristine now it doesn’t have the touch of being a true city with not a single spark to be seen. A living death. He sighs at his own morbidity but he can’t help it. Every time he comes to this place it always makes him feel solemn to see the evidence of people removed from their homes not by calamity but by the evermoving push towards the ever-elusive future.

He idly spins a wind charm dangling from the corner of a roof as the mech he’d been waiting for approaches him with measured steps. Thunderclash turns to Drift to see him covered in dust and splotches of oil likely from a morning of work as he’s spearheaded the restoration effort. Looking worn but happy, Drift gives Thunderclash a small wave then gestures for him to follow and begins to lead Thunderclash through the more worn and decrepit ruins of the ancient city.

“You said Rodimus started acting strangely in this place?” Thunderclash broaches casually, doing his best to keep the concerned waver from his voice.

“Yeah…” Drift’s face droops, the memory of the moment distant in his optics, “It was… I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Did he seem distressed? Wh-What happened?” Thunderclash leans down as they walk through the rubble.

Drift crosses his arms over his chest as his mouth goes tight, “He seemed… I don’t know. It was like he was reliving something horrible like the entire place was dangerous. He looked like he was about to cry…”

Thunderclash recoils, feeling his spark drop in his chest as he tries to figure this out, Rodimus’ apparent feelings only making him worry even more and causing his processor to come up with a blank. Eventually, Drift stops in front of a small home, small but comfortable with just enough space to stretch one’s pedes but not too big so it feels nice and cozy. A strange wave of nostalgia overcomes Thunderclash as he runs his servo down the frame of the door like a kind of deja vu that’s tinted with melancholy as he listens to the wind chimes tinkle softly on the gentle wind. He blinks as his fingers brush an uneven spot on the frame, a raised pattern made from an uneven weld on the otherwise smooth metal surface forming three symbols. It’s a verse from a poem, one that anyone could recognize even in its ancient script for it is as old as the name of Primus and just as important.

“In the spark resides,” Thunderclash’s voice breaks the air, and Drift nods.

“It’s a common phrase found on the doors of these homes, I know the current relevance but I couldn’t begin to guess why it would be used almost like a talisman for these people,” Drift’s words are light, almost casual but his optics are fixed onto Thunderclash with an intense light.

“Molded into cast, Framed in eternal glory, And wrought in molten truth, And so, In the spark resides,” Thunderclash recites the poem as they both walk in, the words rough in their modern translation but still profound nevertheless, “It’s a declaration of being home, of being meant to be where they are. A forever home.”

Drift nods then hesitates before waving for Thunderclash to follow him then walks down a narrow hall. Following him, Thunderclash looks around only to flinch at the shallow gouges on the floor leading to the door and hastens his steps to join Drift. Before entering the room, Thunderclash’s optics flicker to the broken edges of what had to have been a wall before landing on Drift who offers him a shrug and a bashful smile. The light air between them quickly turns heavy as Thunderclash realizes exactly where they are: a sparkling’s bedroom. His footsteps kick up tiny clouds of dust as he walks across to the tiny berth meant for a very young sparkling and, shaking, he lowers his servo over the padded surface, brushing it down almost reverently. It feels too empty, too cold.

“Thunderclash?” Drift’s voice breaks him out of his trance and he sucks in an icy vent.

It’s too cold in this room.

“Drift, you have to promise me not to mention what I’m about to say to anyone,” Thunderclash speaks softly so the tremor in his voice is less noticeable.

“Of course,” Drift puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll always do what I can to keep you and Rodimus safe.”

Thunderclash sucks in another, shaky vent to calm himself, still so disoriented and confused why this place was affecting him so.

“Rodimus told me he believes our sparkling is in the underground lab, dead. But that’s impossible. That was so long ago and we’ve never…” Thunderclash shakes his head, “With everything that’s happening… It’s definitely getting in his head.”

“I…” Drift falters and, leaning against one wall, he covers his face, “I should have never brought him here.”

Thunderclash goes to Drift and puts a hand on his shoulder getting him to look up.

“It’s not your fault, Drift. I think one way or another he’d come to the same conclusion.”

Drift nods but he doesn’t seem all that convinced. Leaning against the wall next to Drift, Thunderclash stares out over the room and considers what to do.

“When the two of you were here, what happened exactly?”

Drift vents in slowly and gestures to the broken wall, “He was the one that discovered this place. Well, I don’t really know if it was him- I… It’s a strange thought and I’m probably just trying to rationalize what it was-”

“Drift,” Thunderclash interrupts his rant, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “A lot of strange things have been happening, I’m willing to give a chance for whatever you think you might’ve seen.”

Sighing, Drift’s optics glide to look at the toys set out in morbid display, looking at them for the first time since he’d last been here which, while he would not admit it, hadn’t been since he’d been here with Rodimus. No matter how much this little alcove had plagued his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to be here alone with how empty it feels. Something horrible happened here and he doesn’t think he wants to know what.

“It was like he was being guided,” Drift speaks in an oddly calm way as he recalls Rodimus standing in this space, somehow dulled even in the light, “His optics would go distant sometimes like he was listening to a voice from far away and then he’d come back to himself and move. I don’t like it. I don’t like him being manipulated or maneuvered or-or whatever that was.”

The room falls silent once more as Thunderclash takes in his words, an uneasy feeling churning in his spark remembering how Rodimus had found that secret door with so much ease. Whoever they’re contending with, it was no wonder that Rodimus was well and truly afraid.

“This isn’t to leave this room,” Thunderclash puts firmly, his optics distant but sharp, “but Rodimus confessed to me that he is being manipulated, toyed with, in some kind of sick game where the gambling chips are people’s lives.”

Drift’s optics widen as he pushes himself off the wall, his battle sub-systems activating with the tell-tale whir of hidden weapons powering up and there’s a resonating crack that, upon inspection, Thunderclash sees the tips of Drift’s sunk into the wall. Looking back, Thunderclash can see the dangerous gleam in Drift’s optics that match the tension in his frame making him look as though he was ready to pounce on some unsuspecting prey. For the most part, Thunderclash is calm knowing that this is in response to Rodimus’ safety being compromised but he can’t help the brief flicker of fear in his spark. Except for moments like these when Drift is more than ready to protect his family, Thunderclash forgets that he was once Deadlock, now and forever the son of Megatron.

“And he can’t tell us who that bastard is,” Drift growls, carefully extracting his servo from the wall to grip his wrist as he clenches and unclenches his hand reflexively in an attempt to calm down.

“Not without risking significant harm, no,” Thunderclash nods and vents deeply to calm his frayed nerves.

Drift looks at the shallow holes he left in the wall with a tut, his face suddenly full of remorse at damaging a historical site, even if only but a fraction of it.

“How is he now?” Drift looks back at Thunderclash, all of the tension leaving his frame at once.

“Not great,” Thunderclash confesses dourly, the look on Rodimus’ face when he came back still seared in his mind, “He’s still recharging in our hab. The things he’s been through recently have exhausted him completely and the others agreed that letting him rest would be for the best.”

“Yeah,” Drift chuckles bitterly, “but he’s not going to like everyone coddling him when he wakes up though. But if he’s still in recharge even though it’s midmorning he must be tired.”

“I’ll weather any complaints if that means he gets the rest he needs,” Thunderclash smiles fondly.

Drift chuckles lightly at that but their brief moment of peace is quickly broken when a loud alert goes off over Drift’s comms causing him to leap off the wall and take the comm. He doesn’t get a word across before the other person on the line is rambling about something unintelligible to Thunderclash but whatever’s being said makes Drift furrow his brow in frustration. Taking out a datapad, he takes some notes of what the other person is saying and does some quick calculations.

“Alright, yeah, I got you,” Drift responds flatly, clearly upset, “I’ll head over right now and I’ll likely be there in twenty. Look, I’m sorry but I could only be there faster if I could bend time. For right now, shut it all down and run diagnostics until I get there.”

Drift cuts off the comm preemptively as the mech across the line starts another rant and turns to look at Thunderclash apologetically.

“It looks like I’m going to have to cut this short. There’s something wrong with the equipment and so we’ve suffered some structural damage on the building that we’re excavating,” Drift sighs and rubs his temple, “They want me to do damage control, analysis, and get everything back in working order. As much as I like this job sometimes I think it’s going to be the death of me.”

Thunderclash steps over to him and pats his back, “And you do it admirably. Don’t mind me, I’ll linger here for a bit and then head back. You go on and do your job… Director.”

Drift laughs bashfully, pride from his position leaking through into his grin as he nods to Thunderclash before leaving with an easy wave. Watching him go, Thunderclash tries to shrug off the sense of unease this place gives him but to no avail. Pushing himself off the wall, Thunderclash drags his pedes until he’s next to the sparkling berth, the cradle, and lowers his hand to just above the soft padding. His optics go out of focus as he stares down and his hand curls around and empty space, moving without him willing it to before turning away quickly so fast he makes himself light-headed while feeling as though every bit of warmth has been pulled from his frame. He shudders as he clutches his face, venting hard as he tries to regain some heat and is shocked to find the air leaving his vents condensing in the air. As he steadies himself, Thunderclash slowly turns back around only to jump at the thing floating in the air in front of him but once he sees that it’s only an archival drone he lets out an exasperated sigh, frustrated with how jumpy this place makes him.

“Did Drift send you?” Thunderclash asks the boxy thing as it hovers in the air with a gentle whir of its motors, the hover pads glowing a soft blue on the underside of its unembellished frame.

The screen that makes up its “face” doesn’t change from the dot representing an optic into words as Thunderclash expected, instead, it maneuvers to the cradle, and with the clunky clamps just under its “face”, it perches awkwardly on the gate. Thunderclash crosses his arms, befuddled by the little drone. As he observes it, he notices it’s facing down into the crib with its optic slowly sliding side to side, studying the empty space. An involuntary shudder runs down Thunderclash’s spinal strut but he can’t explain why he finds the drone’s unusual behavior to be so… unsettling. In a moment, the suspense is broken as the drone retakes to the air and glides up to Thunderclash. This time, the screen flickers to show two words.

“Follow me.”

The drone leaves without waiting for a response and without much other choice and far too curious for his own good, Thunderclash does as he’s bid.

* * *

Drift transforms on the scene and is immediately bombarded by his entire team all shouting over each other and declaring the numerous problems that have been happening on the site. He waves them off as best as he can as he approaches the damaged building and sighs. At the very least it appears to be a part that wouldn’t hold anything of significance but they know so little about this time that he can’t say that for sure. Next to the caved-in corner of the building roof, a building that appears to be the home of a much richer inhabitant is the offending equipment, an automated sprayer that applies a gentle solution to wash away built-up minerals. Something had caused it to slam into the roof hard enough to crush the metal roofing and stone wall. The drones around him float around to pick up the rubble and metal shards as he approaches the machine and looks over the screen detailing the operation history, power levels, and previous commands. As he scrolls through it, Drift lets out an irritated grumble. Everything was in order, there weren’t even any minor miscalculations leaving him at a loss for what could have happened. As he runs a quick diagnostics, something catches his attention. He pulls up a file that initially looks like a mislabeled mapping system that turns out to be a background program, a program that had been running.

His vents catch as he reads through it and rushes to the command center, syncing up all of their equipment to search through all of the collective systems. Shouts of questions and objections follow him but he ignores them in favor of his task. Drift’s spark pulses faster and faster as he finds the same system in every piece of their equipment, all of them meant to do the same thing: cause a malfunction by reversing two strands in code. Tracing the system back does nothing, there is no single point of download as it seems to have been downloaded individually to each piece of equipment remotely from several different sources hiding the origin and preventing further triangulation of the signal. This was all planned very carefully by someone who doesn’t want to be found.

Drift stands back up and faces the crowd that had gathered around him. He clears his intake and the murmurs fall silent.

“I want every piece of our equipment shut down completely, we’ve had a security breach,” Drift watches them all tense, knowing they’re all probably thinking of the past attack and wondering they’re next, “Until we can reinforce our firewalls, the excavation is to be put on hold.”

Murmurs bubble up from the crowd once as he leaves to look around the site. The crowd disperses slowly to comply with his order all with expressions that mirror his own feelings. They’d all been working hard on this site and they had all been excited to uncover this place. Drift finds himself at a bit of a loss, not knowing how to offer them any comfort in the face of this mess but he would try to do his best to get them back on track.

“Sir,” one of his assistants comes up to him looking nervous.

“Yes?” Drift nods to them, watching as they fiddle with the datapad in their hands.

“We have twenty-five drones registered, right?” they ask, and Drift already doesn’t like where this is going.

“We do,” he affirms with a slow nod.  
“Well, um,” the assistant hands over the datapad, “We only twenty-four accounted for.”

Drift looks around, confirming it himself.

“Frag.”

* * *

Expecting the little drone to take him to the sight of the crisis Drift is dealing with, Thunderclash is very surprised to come upon the school that had been uncovered, the school where Rodimus had been electrocuted. An uneasy feeling settles in his chest as he looks around and finds no one around and pinging the area he finds that it is indeed deserted except for himself and this strange little drone. The whole place feels like a ghost town as his footsteps echo uncomfortably loud in his audials as he walks down the ancient halls while all the while the little drone floats idly in front of him and unusually silent, free from the soft blips and bloops commonly heard from archival drones as they make calculations and correct their height or speed. Everything is silent here, so silent that Thunderclash can hear the soft hum of his own internal mechanisms. They pass classroom after classroom at a slow, easy pace but never turn into any of them and the drone never stops to look into any of them but, rather, it just continues on and on with an unsettling surety suggesting an… innate awareness. Thunderclash is sure now more than before that there is someone behind this drone and he doesn’t like the possibilities of who that someone could be.

The drone stops in front of a wall that’s smooth and completely ordinary, looking at it up and down. Thunderclash watches it wearily as he begins to doubt himself along with his prior insinuations that could have just been due to the stress of all the strange things that have been going on. Disappointment more at himself than anything rubs uncomfortably against his plating as the possibility of having followed a malfunctioning drone all this way becomes more and more likely. Then, the wall sinks into the floor and the drone begins its descent down the stairs into the darkness below. Thunderclash hesitates at the entrance, steadying himself on the edge of the opening in the wall. Possibly hearing or noticing in some kind of way that Thunderclash was no longer following it, the drone stops and turns around to face him, and the screen flashes to a single word.

“Come.”

Then it turns back, disappearing almost completely in the shadows. With a deep vent, Thunderclash begins to walk down the stairs only to stiffen when the wall closes behind him as soon as he’s just a few steps down. As Thunderclash stares at the wall with his spark pulsing quickly, lights turn on along the steps, guiding his optics back to the drone that’s watching him, waiting for him. Well, there was no turning back now. He continues down the stairs which thankfully aren’t that long so after maybe twenty or thirty steps they’re at the base which stops in front of a sliding door that opens for them with a soft hiss. A puff of icy air spills from the dark room with the change in pressure sending a chill through Thunderclash’s frame. As soon as he steps inside, lights burst to life with loud cracks that emanate throughout the large chamber and fill the space with sterile, white light. The room is a smooth, undecorated concrete with half walls dividing it into different sections that each hold heavy machinery and equipment. He walks entranced by the sight, his optics flicking from one oddity to the next, eventually lingering on a wicked-looking contraption of interconnected metal hoops to make a gyroscope with a platform in the middle with binds clearly meant to wrap over arms and legs. What disturbs him the most about it is how small it is, too small for a grown mech.

His thoughts are interrupted by the start-up sound of a console and he looks to find the drone staring at the display. The drone turns to him and words flash across its screen once again.  
“You’ll want to see this.”

While watching the drone, Thunderclash side-steps to the console and lowers himself hesitantly into the chair then looks at the display. It’s more of the same symbols he couldn’t read, the older form of Cybex that he regrets not studying more with how vital it all feels now. There are diagrams as well though, which help give him some idea of what this article is about but they’re mostly scientific diagrams that are beyond. As he scrolls down, his hand stills when he sees an image that turns the energon in his fuel lines to ice. It’s Vector Sigma. From what he can discern from the diagram, it looks like sparks are being pulled from her energy core in a rudimentary version of the more complex process they used today. He’s never seen such an early form of the transference before and thought that the process had always been as he knows but if this was to be believed then that is very much not the case. Thunderclash turns to the drone to find it much closer than he expected and nearly jumps out of his chair. It had been watching him. The drone’s false optic remains still and glows intensely on Thunderclash’s face, waiting for something from him.

“Is this what you wanted me to see?” Thunderclash whispers, his hand gripping tightly on the edge of the console to keep himself calm.

The screen on the drone flashes, “Yes.”

“Why?” he chokes out, not sure he wants to know the answer.

“I can’t fix it. I’m not allowed,” the display flashes, only succeeding in confusing Thunderclash even more.

“Fix what? I don’t understand,” Thunderclash gasps, pushing away from the console as though to escape it.

“I cannot tell you,” the words flicker on the screen, distorted as though something was getting corrupted.

Thunderclash steps slowly away from the drone as he voices the concern that had been bouncing in his processor, “Are you… Are you the one that’s playing a game with Rodimus?”

There’s a pause, almost as though his question was being considered the screen flashes again, “Yes.”

Anger and fear, tight and hot, pinch in his chest as he snaps, “Why are you doing this?!”

The screen of the drone flickers erratically now, buzzing with the sound of failing electrical systems before falling to the ground, cold and inert. Thunderclash stares at the thing in disgust. He kicks it away so it skitters across the concrete, pieces of it cracking and breaking off as it bounces. As it comes to a halt, the silence of the chasm surrounds Thunderclash like a blanket wrapping tightly around his frame. Shaking off the unease as best as he can, he turns back to the console and downloads the data before turning and running out of the room then up the stairs to find the panel graciously open for him only for it to shut again behind him as he bursts into the hall. Looking back at where he’d just come from, he doubts what actually happened for a moment with how ordinary it looks but quickly reassures himself with the data sitting in one of his drives.

“What the frag is wrong with this school?” Thunderclash whispers as he leaves this place, hoping it’ll be for good.

* * *

->_167P-LM: Wake up

Rodimus groans at the sudden ping and pushes himself off the berth just enough to check the time. Midday. He’d been recharging since midday. Panic begins to settle in his frame as he realizes just how much time he’s wasted. The attack was going to happen this evening and he was still no closer to an answer.

->_167P-LM: You’ve wasted a lot of time

->NyonRP17: I know, you don’t need to tell me

He gets out of his berth and doesn’t so much as rinse off before running off, heading towards the public library. There had to be something there, something about the origins of their species, some myth he wasn’t remembering that would tell him what Unicron had meant. As soon as he bursts through the doors and begins his search, however, another message pings through.

->_167P-LM: You won’t find your answer here

Rodimus stops in the middle of reaching for a datapad and looks to his right and finds a camera blinking at him, and he feels like he’s going insane as the idea that it’s laughing at him enters his mind.

->NyonRP17: Are you going to tell me where to find it?

->_167P-LM: Thunderclash has it

Rodimus sucks in a vent as he stumbles back to support himself against the shelf, feeling his legs suddenly go weak.

->NyonRP17: What did you do to him?

->_167P-LM: I didn’t do anything  
->_167P-LM: I just showed him around

Venting hard, Rodimus steadies himself and runs out of the library just as fast as he’d gotten there, confusing the librarians and patrons.

->NyonRP17: Where is he?

->_167P-LM: It’s up to you to find out  
->_167P-LM: But he’s okay

Rodimus transforms and hits the road, nearly crashing into someone else speeding along the road but speeds off, ignoring the chorus of honks in his wake. He pings Thunderclash’s comm over and over, his panic rising with each time the signal doesn’t go through. How much could he trust Unicron’s assurance? The bastard was more than happy to gamble people’s lives, what would Thunderclash’s life be in the face of that?

Trying to get himself under control he goes to the temp capital building and races around the halls asking everyone he bumps into to ask if they’ve seen Thunderclash anywhere only to receive apologetic shaking heads. He even pings the entirety of the council if they’ve seen him only to get more negatives and marking the end of an entire hour of daylight burned, leaving him only a few more painfully short hours until the reckoning. Guilt burns in his spark as he looks at all these mechs in the optic and doesn’t tell a single one what’s going to happen but what could be done? All he knows is it is going to happen again and when, but with what he knows, it could happen anywhere. All it could do is start a mass panic which is the last thing they need. Maybe he could ask someone else, someone who knows more about the history of creation like Drift or even Brainstorm and Perceptor.

Rodimus skids to stop. He hadn’t told anyone about the clue, about how he was being forced to play some kind of sick game and now Unicron has made Thunderclash a part of the game, the goal that will win him this round. Unicron could have picked anyone he cares about to lure away and get mixed up in all of this. Shockwave had been a possibility but… Rodimus hadn’t told him everything, certainly not as much as he told Thunderclash. So if he told anyone else… Rodimus shakes his head, deciding he can’t risk anyone else getting mixed up in all of this, possibly even being used by Unicron as a pawn in this game of destruction. Something snaps within him like a sinkhole suddenly opening up in the ground, swallowing him whole as he sees the people spending the day normally around him. Never has he felt so isolated.

The seconds, the minutes, the hours tick by and Rodimus still can’t find Thunderclash anywhere. What if something did happen to him? What if Unicron lead him to the depths of the lab to something horrible? What if he’s trapped? Rodimus covers his face as his vents become rapid and he sinks to his knees, shaking with worry. His mind races and all at once he feels too hot and too cold at the same time. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know where to go. He can’t think.

A hand lands on his back and he practically jumps out of plating but relaxes when he sees Ratchet looking down at him with his brow furrowed in concern.

“Ratchet?” Rodimus whispers.

“Heard you’ve been looking for Thunderclash,” Ratchet explains as he helps Rodimus to his pedes, “He went with Drift to the excavation site earlier today and I don’t think he’s been back yet.”

Rodimus’ optics widen and he mentally curses himself. That’s why Thunderclash hadn’t responded to his pings, because he was practically in a dead zone or, at least, a place with stupidly bad signal.

He hugs Ratchet and murmurs, “Thank you,” before speeding off as the sun begins to set on the horizon.

* * *

Thunderclash walks across the desert as the sky begins to change color above him, his mind swimming with the possibilities the data he was shown implied, and none of it good. If what he’s able to glean from it, it would mean that Vector Sigma hasn’t existed since the creation of Cybertron. If that’s the case, then how did Cybertronians come to be before her? It would mean that they hadn’t always been born from the wells which is a rather harrowing implication.

A large dust cloud quickly approaching him catches his attention and when he squints he sees that it’s Rodimus driving towards him at full tilt making him feel immediately guilty. He’d been gone from home without telling Rodimus where he was for too long, worrying him needlessly but he had needed the time the slow return provided him to steady himself and order his thoughts. Well, he’d just have to make up for it somehow and apologize. So, he waits as Rodimus comes closer, not bothering to slow down even a bit but Thunderclash is more than used to it by now meaning he’s ready with open arms as Rodimus leaps to him out of his transformation sequence.

“I’m-,” Thunderclash starts but is quickly silenced by Rodimus kissing him, every once of relief he feels at seeing Thunderclash seeping into the kiss.

Thunderclash’s vents are all but drawn from him as Rodimus kisses him fervently all lips and glossa until they break, leaving Thunderclash a panting, blushing mess.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Rodimus almost whimpers into Thunderclash’s shoulder and Thunderclash’s chest aches at the sound.

“I’m so sorry, I should have said something,” Thunderclash whispers, rubbing Rodimus’ back gently.

“No, it’s okay. I know you didn’t want to wake me,” Rodimus says as he pulls away, his mood shifting quickly to something more determined, “Did anything strange happen though? Did you find anything?”

“Wh- I- Yes,” Thunderclash nods, pulling up the data he’d retrieved, “I’m guessing whoever is playing with you mentioned this?”

Rodimus nods frantically, distracted by the data presented to him, and grumbles with frustration.

“I can’t tell what’s relevant and what isn’t,” Rodimus scrolls frantically through document after document, his optics flickering sporadically.

Thunderclash places his hand gently over Rodimus’ on the datapad he’d uploaded the data to and pulls up the diagram of Vector Sigma he’d looked at before making all the air in Rodimus’ systems leave at once. He’s perfectly still, struck with horror then he’s a whirl of motion as he pulls up every comm frequency he can think of to contact. Thunderclash’s shoulders sag as he watches Rodimus try to call every frequency at his disposal only to met by piercing static.

“We’re too far out, the interference from the nearby mountains, not to mention the ambient radiation that’s heavy in this area messes with communications,” Thunderclash reminds him, earning a growl of frustration.

Rodimus transforms and says, “I have to head back and warn everyone. Vector Sigma is in danger.”

Thunderclash follows as best as he can and on the short-range comms calls, “You mean she’s the answer to the hint? Not all sparks come from her though.”

“Sure,” Rodimus’ message crackles through heavily distorted as he gets further ahead of Thunderclash, “but I don’t think he knows that. I think… I think he’s from the same time as the excavation site.”

Thunderclash thinks about that, it makes a good amount of sense with what’s been happening and how he’s able to control the satellites from the same era but that was before the Golden Age. There aren’t any mechs alive from that time, certainly no one that would be their enemy today.

“I feel like that it may then be relevant to tell you that I procured this data from a facility that’s beneath the school.”

“The one where I got zapped?”

“The very same.”

“Frag, this is… I know more about what’s going on and I still don’t understand what he’s trying to do!”

“Perhaps your tormentor isn’t trying to do anything.”

They’re a bit further but the city still isn’t within their view. Rodimus’ engine roars as he speeds up even more to the very brink that Thunderclash can follow him but not for much longer, Rodimus was going to have to do this on his own.

Heavily distorted now, Thunderclash hears Rodimus’ voice come through his comm, “I don’t know, these attacks seem too specific, too thought out to be random.”

“It could just be whatever will cause the most amount of panic and disarray,” Thunderclash suggests but he knows that he and Rodimus both know he’s just saying that to be comforting.

There could be no denying that this individual had a plan and a rather sinister one at that.

The sun dips closer and closer towards the horizon and the sky begins to darken as Rodimus comms, “We’re not going to make it. It’s going to be too late. I…”

“Don’t hold up for me, just go,” Thunderclash insists.

“I-I’m exhausted,” Thunderclash can here the break in Rodimus’ voice making his park feel tight, “I spent hours looking for you everywhere and I was so panicked I’ve nearly run myself dry of energon. I’m on fumes as it is. If I go any faster…”

Thunderclash feels sick, guilt chilling his entire frame, wishing he could do something, anything but he can’t stop the day from turning into night, no matter how much he may wish to. The last beams of sunlight cascade over the broad desert as the first hint of stars peak out at them, a normally beautiful sight now only the harbinger of devastation. Everything is so quiet as the twilight hour ends, plunging them into night with only the rumble of their engines and the crunching of sand beneath their wheels filling their audials. Then, like a shallow breath, the thin clouds forming in the chilly air part and there’s a pause that couldn’t be any more than a second or so before a pillar of blue light crashes without a sound from the heavens, stopping them in their tracks. They stumble out of their transformations and watch on in horror amidst the washed-out landscape as the beam burrows into the planet, much longer than the first target. A realization comes to Thunderclash, of course it would be longer, Vector Sigma is underground. It has to dig.

Then just like that, the beam dissipates, returning them to the darkness of night lit only by the light of Luna 2 hanging above them in its silent vigil. The worst thing about it is that it doesn’t even feel like anything’s changed but they know in their sparks what just happened. Rodimus wobbles and Thunderclash moves to catch him just in time before he can hit the ground. Thunderclash’s spark plummets as he looks at his beloved. The light has all but left Rodimus’ optics and his face has gone slack with despair as though all the energy had left his frame all at once. He lifts Rodimus in his arms, saying nothing for there is nothing that can be said as he begins the journey home once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope to get to the next chapter quicker this time! Love you all and I hope the coming days are kind to you!

**Author's Note:**

> I have finally figured out how to do breakers! I hope you all enjoy the insane ideas and experimental stuff I'm going to put into this fic


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